


I Like You a Lot

by Daisy_Rivers



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: 21st century revolution, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Politics, College AU for now, Covert Operation, F/M, Illegal Activities, Love, M/M, Multi, Prequel, Resistance, Riots, illegitimate government
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2018-11-13 21:59:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 78
Words: 364,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11194281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisy_Rivers/pseuds/Daisy_Rivers
Summary: This is a prequel to Provoke Outrage, but you do not need to have read that work to understand this.Alexander Hamilton, a poor kid from the Caribbean, meets new friends like John Laurens and Hercules Mulligan when he begins college (on a scholarship) in New York City. Relationships develop; troubled pasts are revealed. It's an election year, and Angelica Schuyler, a political science major, is president of the campus chapter of Students for Progressive Government.Alex is chosen for an internship in the US Capital, where he gets to know Ben Tallmadge and Nathan Hale. When the political situation changes suddenly and drastically, Alex and his friends are swept up in the beginning of an insurrection against a despotic leader. The situation becomes chaotic and dangerous, and their lives are at risk. Despite that, they will stand together to protect liberty and the Constitution.





	1. Living Without a Family

**Author's Note:**

> John Laurens, Alexander Hamilton, Hercules Mulligan and Thomas Jefferson all begin college together. Angelica Schuyler, a sophomore, is the president of the campus chapter of Students for Progressive Government. Alex and TJ are both interested in politics, and there's a Presidential election coming up. The SPG is supporting Peyton Randolph for President.

The dorm was okay, like all dorms. He’d share a unit with another student. They each had a bedroom and shared a bathroom and living area. He’d deleted the information the university had sent him about his roommate without bothering to read it. It didn’t matter who he was. John planned to stay in his own room and away from other people as much as possible.

The other guy wasn’t there yet, so John tossed his stuff into the bedroom on the left. His clothes went into the small dresser and the closet. He put his art supplies on the shelves. It took him less than an hour to move in. Then he grabbed a sketchbook and a couple of pencils and went outside. If he was lucky, his roommate would be all moved in by the time he got back. That way, he wouldn’t have to deal with whatever family members might have accompanied him and all the inevitable questions – _Oh, where are you from, John? What do your parents do? Do you have any brothers or sisters?_

John didn’t answer questions.

* * * * *

Alex knew in five minutes that he hated his roommate. First of all, the guy showed up with both his parents and a couple of other people in two Beemers. Seriously, they couldn’t rent a U-Haul? Second, he was dressed in clothes that clearly cost more money than Alex had seen in a couple of years. Finally, he was about the most entitled-acting person Alex had ever met, and that was saying a lot.

He looked down his nose from his six-foot-something at Alex, who had gone into defensive mode the minute he’d seen them all get out of the matched pair of Beemers.

“Are you Alexander?” he asked.

“Yeah. Most people call me Alex, though.”

“I’m Tom Jefferson, your roommate.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Alex retorted, “with people bringing stuff in and everything.” Alex had brought his meager belongings in a battered suitcase, two cardboard boxes, and a trash bag the day before. Jefferson’s father and a guy who appeared to be some sort of assistant had carried in a microwave, a small refrigerator, a TV, and about half a dozen designer bags of clothes. His mother had brought bedding and even curtains.

Alex had a blanket from Goodwill and was going to have to depend on the blinds that came with the room for privacy.

“Well, nice to meet you,” Jefferson said, turning away to start arranging books on the shelves in his room. Alex managed to sneak a look at the titles. Shit, the guy had some serious books – de Tocqueville’s _Democracy in America,_ Frederick Douglass’s autobiography, stuff by McCullough, Chernow, Doris Kearns Goodwin. Jefferson also had books that appeared to be in French: Montesquieu, Rousseau, a collection of Baudelaire’s poems – and was he actually lining up a _complete set_ of Shakespeare’s works? Alex had read it all, of course, but either in battered second-hand paperbacks or on kindle because he couldn’t afford the nice hardbacks.

“Um, what’s your major?” he asked, unable to contain himself.

“Poli Sci,” Jefferson responded over his shoulder. “Oh, did you think it was English lit or French?”

“No, not really, but if you’re majoring in Poli Sci, I doubt if you’ll be using the Baudelaire.”

Jefferson turned around and narrowed his eyes. “ _Tu as lu Baudelaire?”_ he asked in French.

 _“Bien sûr,”_ Alex told him.

There was a pause while Jefferson seemed to reconsider his first impression of his new roommate.

 _“Tu es d’où? Tu es d’origine française?”_ he inquired. His French was very good, but he had a noticeable American accent.

 _“Non,”_ Alex responded in his flawless, unaccented French, _“mais je parle français depuis toujours. Je l’ai appris tout petit, avant l’anglais.”_

“So where are you from?” Jefferson asked, his irritation at Alex’s superior French showing.

“Right now, New York,” Alex said, determined not to reveal anything he didn’t have to, “but I grew up in a lot of places.”

* * * * *

The quad was nice, at least, bordered by a stone wall that people were sitting on casually. There were benches and a few tables, a lot of trees. On one side was the student center and dining hall. The other surrounding buildings looked like they contained classrooms. John didn’t bother checking. He had his class schedule and a campus map on his phone, and he’d look at them when he had to. He’d skipped freshman orientation entirely. He’d gotten a stern email from somebody about that, but he’d ignored it. His trust fund was paying the full price here, no financial aid. They weren’t going to throw him out for missing some stupid meetings.

He found a conveniently placed tree that he could lean against and put his headphones on so he could listen to music and, hopefully, discourage people from talking to him. He opened his sketchbook and looked around for a subject. There were a couple of guys having an animated conversation; in fact, it looked like they might be arguing about something. They were almost comically unlike one another. One was about five nine, compact, with dark hair and a goatee. He was wearing jeans and a beat up gray hoodie. The other guy was tall and had curly flaming red hair. He was dressed in immaculate pressed khakis and a pale blue button-down shirt. His polished brown leather shoes matched his brown leather belt. John snorted. The GQ outfit looked ridiculous. He started sketching the two of them in a cartoon style, with the short dark guy looking tough and belligerent. He made the tall redhead a movie-star type and started calling him Stanley Stunning in his head. The short one he dubbed Brad Barker for his confrontational manner and drew him waving his arms angrily. He played around with the drawing, making Stanley look scared, then he added both of the names in block lettering, with lots of exclamation points flying through the air. It was fun, and it distracted him for a while. He watched their conversation – or argument – conclude and the two of them left, the shorter guy stomping off toward the dining hall and the redhead strolling in the direction of the dorms. He wondered indifferently who they were, but wasn’t going to make any effort to find out. He was planning to keep a low profile.

Eventually, he got hungry and went to the dining hall, keeping his headphones on. He ate a sandwich and some cookies and decided that since it was nearly dark, he’d go back to the dorm and hope that his roommate was all moved in so that he’d only have to talk to one person. His luck held. There was a guy his own age sitting in the shared living space playing a game on his laptop.

John sighed and removed his headphones. “Hey,” he said politely, sticking out his hand. “I’m John Laurens. I guess you’re my roommate.”

The other guy stood up and shook hands. “Yeah,” he responded. “My name’s Hal Pelham. You’re an art major too, right?’

John nodded. “Yeah.”

“That’s great,” Hal said, smiling. “We’ll probably have some of the same classes. Do you have your schedule?”

Great, John thought. He wants to be friends. He wasn’t flat-out rude, though, and he brought his schedule up on his phone so he could compare it to Hal’s. They were in the same sections for both Form and Perspective and Pre-Renaissance Art. Maybe he could get his schedule changed because Hal was looking all friendly-puppy happy, and John sure as hell didn’t want to get into the note-sharing friend zone. It was bad enough the college grouped them in the dorms by major, so most of the people he saw in class would be living in the same building. He’d have to see how soon he could get an off-campus apartment.

John didn’t want friends.

He mumbled a few more sentences to Hal. John wasn’t cold by nature, and it wasn’t easy for him to keep a formal distance with everybody he met, but he knew that was the safest way to manage things. He took a shower and went to bed, keeping some music going so that he wouldn’t think too much. If he could just keep himself distracted, maybe he wouldn’t wonder what the kids were doing now.

* * * * *

“So you’ve traveled?” Jefferson asked, looking appraisingly at Alex.

Alex flushed. “Some,” he muttered. From the Caribbean to New York, basically, unless you counted the ferry out to the Statue of Liberty.

“I’ve spent summers in France for the last few years,” Jefferson told him smugly.

“That’s where you learned to speak French?”

“Yeah.”

“You might want to work on your vowels a little. The _ou_ and the _u_ are really nothing alike in French,” Alex offered helpfully.

“Excuse me?” Jefferson was way too used to being complimented on his French.

Alex gave him a look of wide-eyed innocence. “I thought you’d want to know. I always appreciate it if people help me improve my French – or my Spanish.”

“You speak Spanish too?”

“Sure. Well, I mean, it’s etymologically and historically related to French, so once you know one, the other is pretty easy.” He knew he was being obnoxious, but dammit, Jefferson was not going to get away with assuming he was the smartest person in the room.

Mrs. Jefferson returned from the bedroom before Jefferson could respond and smiled at them. “I must say, the curtains look very nice,” she said. “Alexander, I brought some cookies. Would you like some?”

“I’d love some, thanks,” Alex replied, beaming. Cookies were pretty much his favorite food.

Mrs. Jefferson opened a tin of cookies and put it on the table. “I’ll make some coffee,” she said. They had brought a Keurig, of course, with about a million varieties of K cups. “Alex, what do you like?”

“Black with extra sugar, or hazelnut, or mocha, or, really, any kind of coffee.”

“Tommy?”

“Mom!”

“Oh, sorry, darling, Tom, then.”

Jefferson flushed and rolled his eyes. “Mom, you know how I like my coffee – a little milk and a little sugar.”

Mrs. Jefferson looked over at Alex and gave him another friendly smile. “I’m sure your mom is going through the same thing I am. It’s hard to see your kids grow up and leave home. Or do you have older brothers or sisters?”

“Uh – no,” Alex muttered. “I’m an only child.” It wasn’t exactly true, but close enough.

Mrs. Jefferson was very sympathetic. “Oh, that must be hard for your parents!” she exclaimed.

“Mm,” Alex mumbled noncommittally, then added brightly, “Oh, my coffee’s done!”

He picked up the mug – yeah, there was actually a matched set of coffee mugs – and took a sip, then helped himself to another cookie. He began to babble about how delicious the cookies were to get Mrs. Jefferson onto a different topic because he didn’t want her asking any more questions about his family. He had no family. He was seventeen, and he was completely on his own in the world.

* * * * *

John was being as unfriendly as he could, but Hal insisted on walking to class with him. Hal didn’t even seem to notice that John wasn’t saying anything; he just kept talking, telling John all about his family in Boston. John didn’t even nod, just kept his eyes down. He had to get an off-campus apartment before Hal drove him crazy.

Form and Perspective was a nine o’clock class taught by Professor Greenwood. John had had good art teachers in high school – after all, he’d gone to a pricey and exclusive boarding school – so not much that Dr. Greenwood said was new to him. He sat and doodled in his sketchbook while Hal took copious notes and added web addresses to his phone. John drew Hal staring wide-eyed at the teacher, his brown hair flopping over his forehead and his phone clutched in his hand. He was so used to drawing people all the time that he didn’t even realize Hal was looking at the sketch. When he caught a glimpse of Hal’s face, he flushed and flipped the sketchbook page. Hal looked a little hurt. Well, okay, maybe he had drawn him as an over-eager nine-year-old, but he hadn’t meant it to be an insult. Hal really was kind of like a little kid, excited to be in college, enthusiastic about his first classes. John didn’t feel the same way, but he didn’t have anything against Hal. He just didn’t want to be friends. He looked around the room for someone else to draw while the teacher explained vanishing points and convergence. He picked a guy a couple of rows away, a big guy with an interesting face, broad across the cheekbones, then tapering to a strong chin. He had short hair and was dressed all in black. John shifted a little to try to read the printing on his tee shirt, but couldn’t make it out. He started drawing anyway, trying to catch the serious look on the guy’s face. He got so involved in his drawing that he was still at it when the teacher dismissed the class. The classmate he was drawing turned to get his stuff together and surprised John by making eye contact. The lettering on his shirt read, _“I’m a guy who sews. You got a problem with that?”_ John almost smiled at that, and the guy grinned, his face transforming instantly from intimidating to friendly. John flushed a little and put his head down, trying to shove pencils and sketchbook into his backpack. A couple of pencils skittered away across the floor, and John went after them, feeling like a fool. Hal, apparently having had his feelings hurt, was already out the door by the time John stood up to see the subject of his sketch standing right next to him.

“Yo,” he said, “what were you drawing?”

John threw his backpack strap over his shoulder. “Nothing,” he mumbled, “just messing around.” He stalked off into the corridor, but the guy in black kept pace with him. Jesus, what was it with all these goddam friendly people around here? He just wanted to be left alone.

“I’m Herc,” the guy said.

John frowned. “What?”

“My name. Herc. Short for Hercules. Hercules Mulligan.”

“Seriously?”

Herc sighed. “You have any idea how often I get that reaction?”

John gave a reluctant smile. “Sorry, but, you know, it’s kind of …”

“Weird?”

“Well, more like Disneyesque.”

Herc laughed out loud. It was a warm and appealing sound. “I don’t think I’ve heard that one before,” he said. “My mom likes mythology. My brothers are Damon and Apollo, and my sisters are Venus, Diana, and Pandora.”

“No shit?”

“I figure it’s better to get all that out of the way when I introduce myself.”

John nodded. He liked this guy, and he didn’t want that to happen. They kept walking in silence for a few minutes, and then John spoke, against his better judgment. “I’m John Laurens,” he said.

“Nice to meet you, John,” Herc said. “You want to get coffee?”

“Yeah,” John responded, knowing he’d regret it.

* * * * *

“Seriously?” Alex repeated, so excited he was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Seriously, you’re related to Peyton Randolph? The guy who’s running for President?”

“Yeah, seriously,” Jefferson told him. “Why is that such a surprise? Presidential candidates have relatives, just like everybody else.”

“Are you campaigning for him?” Alex asked. “I hope you’re going to say yes, because if he doesn’t win, we’re stuck with Blodman, who is a walking joke.”

“Campaigning? I mean, I’m going to vote for him, sure, but what do you mean by campaigning?” Jefferson’s eyebrows went up skeptically. “Like knocking on people’s doors and things?”

“Yeah, exactly. Look, TJ …”

“Why do you keep calling me that? Why can’t you just call me Tom like everybody else?”

“I know too many guys named Tom,” Alex said impatiently, waving his hands and pacing around their living room. “Listen, you’ve got to be out there actively campaigning like the rest of us. Blodman’s higher in the polls than he should be.”

“He doesn’t have a chance,” TJ scoffed.

“Don’t be so sure. We can’t get overconfident. I’m going to be handing out flyers in the quad in tomorrow. You should join me. It’ll have even more impact if you’re with us because you know Peyton Randolph personally.”

TJ shrugged a little uncomfortably. “I don’t really know him.”

Alex stopped pacing and glared at him. “What do you mean you don’t really know him? I thought you said you were related to him.”

“I am, but he’s like my mom’s eighth cousin or something. I’ve never actually met him.”

“You jackass, were you showing off again?”

“No! I didn’t lie. I am related to him,” TJ said defensively.

“Very distantly, and you’ve never even met him.” Alex threw himself on the couch and looked up in disgust. “I swear to God, TJ, I am so tired of your swaggering around like you’re the king of the world. Yeah, I know you’ve got money, and an estate, and you come from the kind of family who’s related to the Randolphs, but you are no better than anybody else, and you’d better get used to that fact.”

“Fuck you, Alex,” TJ retorted, flushing bright red. He turned on his heel and strode out, slamming the door to his room.

“Asshole!” Alex yelled at the door. He grabbed his gray hoodie and threw it on to make another visit to the student housing office. They’d already told him that he couldn’t switch roommates this early in the semester, but maybe if he was persistent, they’d bend the rules.

* * * * *

Herc knew a coffee shop just off campus, a tiny place squashed between two much bigger buildings, but easy to find because of the brightly painted exterior. It was mostly daffodil yellow with sapphire blue, magenta, and grass green around the door and window frames. The door itself was scarlet. _Betsy's_ was painted on the window in neat script.

John looked over the facade with a critical eye. "Wow," he said. "Cool."

"You think?" Herc asked, smiling.

"Yeah, I do. Good design."

Herc nodded. "I agree. I'll tell Betsy you said so. She did it herself."

"Really? Another art major?"

"Nah." Herc shook his head. "She would have been though ..." He pushed the scarlet door open and held it for John.

The interior was just as bright as the outside, decorated in the same vivid colors. A young woman behind the counter waved at them. "Hi, Herc," she said with a friendly smile.

"Hey, Patty," he responded. "This is John, a fellow art major."

"Hi, John," Patty greeted him. "How do you like your coffee?"

Patty had dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and wore a white apron over her jeans. Her tee shirt was bright yellow, with _Betsy's_ written across it, every letter a different color.

"A lot of milk and one sugar," John said, wishing he hadn't come. This wasn't just a place to get coffee; this was a place where Herc knew people and they knew him. They were probably all friends. He didn't want to get himself into a friends situation. He sat down with Herc at an emerald green table, silently vowing to drink his coffee quickly and get out as soon as he could.

"You want anything to eat?" Herc asked.

"No, I'm good," John told him, even though the smell of fresh baking and the fragrance of cinnamon in the air made his mouth water.

Patty brought their coffees on a tray, along with a chocolate chip scone that Herc hadn't even ordered.

"You wanted this, right?" Patty asked with a grin.

"You know you don't have to ask." Herc broke off a piece of the scone and popped it into his mouth, chewing it with obvious enjoyment.

Patty looked at Herc’s shirt and laughed. “New one?” She turned to John. “Herc’s tee shirts are famous,” she told him.

John nodded and tried to smile, but didn’t look at her.

"You should try this," Herc said. "Their scones are amazing."

"Maybe some other time," John mumbled, staring at his coffee.

The few other customers had already been served, so Patty lingered by their table. "So where are you from, John?" she inquired.

John stirred his coffee some more even though it was perfectly blended. "South Carolina," he said finally, still not looking up.

Patty waited for him to say something more, but he kept his head down, so she gave Herc a smile and went back behind the counter. Herc broke off another piece of his scone, put it on a napkin, and slid it across the table to John.

"You should try it," he said.

"No thanks," John replied, still not looking up.

There was an awkward silence. "Hey," Herc said gently, "I know we don't really know each other, but did I say something wrong?"

John shook his head. "Of course not."

"You just don't like fresh-baked chocolate chip scones?"

"I'm not hungry."

"You don't feel like talking?" Herc continued in the same calm tone.

"Not much."

There was another silence, not quite as awkward. "That's okay," Herc said. "Everybody needs peace and quiet sometimes."

Surprised, John looked up and saw nothing but friendly concern on Herc's face. In John's eyes, Herc saw nothing but pain.

* * * * *

"I think incompatibility is a perfectly valid reason to change roommates," Alex insisted.

"I'm not disagreeing with you," the student assistant said. Her name tag identified her as Kat Livingston. "I'm just saying that we don't make those changes during the first two weeks. You barely know someone after less than a week."

"I know he's an asshole," Alex declared.

Kat gave him a pained look. "Two weeks," she repeated.

Alex thought for a minute. "What's your favorite ice cream?"

"What?"

"What ice cream do you like best? Come on, tell me, chocolate chip cookie dough?"

Kat looked bewildered. "Why are you asking me?"

"I thought maybe we could go get ice cream when you're done work."

"Okay," she responded cautiously. "So we're not talking about your roommate issue anymore?"

"Not at the moment," Alex grinned, "but I reserve the right to re-open the topic after plying you with ice cream."

Kat started laughing. "You know I'm only a student assistant here, right? I don't make decisions. I mean, even two scoops of fudge ripple couldn't influence official policy."

"Fudge ripple?"

"Definitely."

"What time do you get off work?"

"Four o'clock."

"Okay if I wait for you out front?"

"Sure. I'll see you at four."

A couple of hours later they were at Scoopy-Doo's, a popular ice cream place near campus. Alex requested a scoop of espresso chocolate chip, and Kat ordered a scoop of fudge ripple, as expected.

"You can have two scoops if you want," Alex assured her.

"No, thanks," she replied with a smile. "I can't let myself accept such a large bribe."

Kat wasn't stupid. Alex's well-worn clothes and shaggy haircut practically screamed "broke scholarship student." She wouldn't have been surprised if she'd known the truth, that Alex had anxiously counted his available cash after asking her out for ice cream, and that he had only ordered one scoop for himself in case she wanted two.

* * * * *

John kept telling himself that hanging out with Herc was going to lead to some sort of disaster, but Herc just kept showing up, never making any demands, never pushing, and John kept spending time with him. Sometimes they’d just sit without saying a word. Sometimes John would even talk a little, but never about himself or his family. He liked to talk about turtles, Herc found out. Turtles were the safest topic ever, because you couldn’t exactly have arguments about them. John would explain the migratory habits of sea turtles or the hibernation practices of box turtles and Herc would nod and say, “Mm-hmm,” because it was worth listening to hours of the most boring turtle lore ever to see John’s face relax and his beautiful hazel-green eyes light up. Every once in a while, he would get so involved in his turtle discourse that he would even smile, and then Herc would lose track of whatever John was saying and just think about how beautiful he was.

“Do you want a turtle?” Herc asked as they were walking across campus, mostly to distract himself from that smile.

“What?”

“A turtle. For a pet.”

John shook his head. “No, absolutely not. Turtles belong in their natural habitats. I know they’re sold as pets, but pet turtles don’t have very good lives.” His eyes were full of real concern. “If I had a pet, I’d want to be able to give it a good life.” His voice was so earnest that it made Herc smile.

“You’re a good guy, John,” he said.

John flushed and looked away. “Because I don’t want to be mean to a reptile? Pretty low bar.”

“Because you have a kind heart,” Herc told him. He reached out and touched John’s face gently, and was startled when John jerked away from him and slapped his hand down.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry.” He turned his palms toward John, who was staring at the ground. “Really. I apologize, John. It won’t happen again.”

“’S’okay,” John mumbled.

Herc looked around. There was a bench under an oak tree a few yards away with nobody near it. “Let’s sit down for a few minutes.”

John followed him to the bench and sat stiffly at one end of it, still not looking up. Herc sat a couple of feet away from him and stretched out his legs. After a minute, he said, “You’ve probably already figured out that I’m gay.”

John made a noise that sounded almost like a snicker. “Yeah.”

“I’m really sorry if I read you wrong.”

John shook his head and his curls swung in a way that made Herc’s heart contract. “Nah, you didn’t.”

Herc thought that through. After a few minutes, he said, “Then I guess I’m sorry that you’re not interested.”

John finally looked up. The late afternoon sun lit his face so that his freckles looked like copper flecks scattered over his olive skin. Herc waited patiently for him. “It’s not …” John stopped and pushed back his hair. “I just can’t, Herc. I don’t want to mess everything up again.”

“You know, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Can we not talk about it?”

“Yeah, that’s always an option. I don’t know that it works as a long-term strategy, though.”

“It’s the only strategy I’ve got.”

Herc nodded. “Ever think you might need a new one?”

John shrugged. “It’s working.”

“Really? You could have fooled me. Most guys don’t panic if I touch them, even if they’re not interested.”

“I didn’t panic,” John said truculently.

“Okay.”

“I just … I can’t, Herc.”

“Okay,” Herc said again. “We’re friends, though, right?”

“I guess,” John muttered. “See, that’s where I made a mistake.”

“What?”

“I swore when I got to college that I wouldn’t be friends with anybody, and now I am, and it’s all going to go wrong.”

“John, help me out here. You’re not even making sense.”

John squinted at the setting sun and sighed. “If I talk about stuff, I’ll feel worse.”

“Maybe not.” Herc moved a few inches closer to him, watching him cautiously.

John’s mouth twitched a little. “It’s okay. I won’t smack you again.”

“What if I put my arm around you?”

John thought about it. “That might feel nice,” he said finally.

Herc slid his arm along the back of the bench and gently put his hand on John’s shoulder. John gave a deep sigh, and then, as if he’d made a decision, moved closer and leaned against Herc’s chest. Herc’s big hand gripped a little tighter, and he could hear John’s breathing grow slower and steadier. “We okay?” he asked softly.

John nodded against his chest, and Herc nuzzled the top of his head. The curls tickled his nose. He liked the way it felt.

“You can tell me stuff or not,” he said. “Whatever you want. I’m not going anywhere.”

 _I’m not going anywhere._ That was a nice thing for him to say, John thought, even if it wasn’t true. Maybe he could tell him a couple of things. Maybe that would be enough. He took a deep breath.

“Well, first,” he began, “my father hates me …”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John's roommate Henry "Hal" Pelham was a successful artist from Boston, the half brother of artist John Copley.  
> Thomas Jefferson's mother was Jane Randolph, and she really was a cousin of Peyton Randolph, who never actually ran for President, but was a well-known Virginia patriot.  
> I began Provoke Outrage before the election of 2016, and established the characters of Blodman and King before I knew how things were going to go, so if Blodman and King resemble any real-life politicians, it is just a coincidence.  
> I will try to update regularly, probably once every week or ten days. If you enjoyed Provoke Outrage, I hope you'll enjoy this story too. Please let me know. I always love hearing from readers. Also, you can catch me on Tumblr (which I still don't understand!) @daisy-rivers


	2. Shoot Off at the Mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex becomes active in Students for Progressive Government and has trouble with people who disagree with him. John wants information about environmental policies. Herc fills everybody in on Betsy's story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Practically all fanfiction that I've seen portrays Henry Laurens, John's father, in a negative way. There is no actual historical evidence of this, and Henry Laurens supported the Revolutionary cause. However, Henry Laurens was also a partner in the biggest slave-trading company in North America; he made his fortune buying and selling human beings and profiting off their suffering, in the same way that the cattle barons of the Old West made their money by buying and selling cattle. It's a sickening concept. His son John became an ardent abolitionist, one of the few, even among abolitionists, who believed and wrote that people of African origin were by nature as intelligent and capable of success as people of European origin. He said that their apparent "inferiority" resulted only from our depriving them of education and the advantages that white people enjoyed. This may be wildly obvious to us, but it was not a popular view at the time, and although there is nothing on the record, I can't help but imagine the kinds of conversations John and his father might have had over this subject. When two people have critically important principles that are diametrically opposed, it seems impossible that they could get along well. Regardless of the lack of evidence, I believe that there must have been deep moral conflict between John and his father, and you will see that in this story.

There were campaign posters taped to the front of the table where Alex had piled up the fliers. He was wearing a big “Vote for Randolph” button, and he had some of those to hand out as well. He might be new to the Students for Progressive Government organization, but he had jumped in with both feet and had made quite a splash. TJ, active in the group, but irritated with Alex for any number of reasons, hoped he’d just go away. Angelica Schuyler, on the other hand, was intrigued.

“How did you get interested in politics?” she had asked as they were setting up.

Alex just looked at her in astonishment. “I live here? I’m a citizen? I mean, how can anybody not be interested in what kind of future our country has?”

“You’d be surprised,” Angelica said. “You know young people have the worst voting turnout, right?”

“Yes, but I don’t understand that at all. We’re the ones who will be most affected by the future government.”

“Right,” Angelica agreed. “I just hope we can get more students to see that.”

TJ had consented to help hand out fliers, with the condition that Alex not mention that he was distantly related to Peyton Randolph. Alex was still annoyed about that particular topic, but he had acquiesced, figuring that he would try to get TJ to talk to his mother about it later. Even if she was a distant cousin, there must be a way she could get in touch with him, and maybe arrange for him to make a campaign stop on campus. He was trying to figure out if he should discuss that with TJ or just bypass him and go straight to Mrs. Jefferson. She had liked him, he thought. He would start by reminding her how much he liked her cookies.

“Are you registered to vote?” Angelica was asking everyone who walked by. If they answered in the negative, she handed them a leaflet on how to register. “There’s still plenty of time,” she told them. “You have until mid-October, but get it done before you forget.”

Alex was bouncing up and down, as he always did when he was excited. “Peyton Randolph is one of the most qualified candidates ever to run for President, not to mention the one being endorsed by President Washington,” he said, handing fliers to everyone who would take one. “Fifteen years in the Virginia state legislature, two terms as governor of Virginia. Don’t forget his superb speech on religious tolerance after that Sikh temple was burned down! He’s a Constitutional scholar, and served as guest lecturer in Constitutional law at the University of Virginia.”

“He’s boring!” somebody yelled, and bystanders laughed.

“Boring?” Alex yelled back. “Do you mean he’s not a professional comedian with absolutely no government experience like Blodman? You mean he’s actually more knowledgeable about the Constitution than he is about TV ratings? You may call that boring; I call it brilliant! And furthermore …”

“Calm down, Alex,” TJ muttered, and Alex turned on him.

“Calm down? You want me to be calm when there are people out there who might actually vote for Blodman? For a complete idiot?” He waved his hand at the gathering crowd. “They need to know how unqualified Blodman is!”

“He’s not an idiot,” a girl in a denim miniskirt protested. “At least he’s got a personality.”

“Oh, so the Presidency is a personality contest now?” Alex inquired sarcastically. “Let me tell you …”

TJ shot a look at Angelica, and she grabbed Alex by the arm, pulling him back. “Shut. Up. Now,” she whispered in his ear, shoving him in TJ’s direction. TJ put a friendly hand on Alex’s shoulder and pretended to need to talk to him, while Angelica turned to the crowd.

“Of course, we all have the right to vote for the person we think will make the best President,” she said smoothly, “but let me tell you why I believe Peyton Randolph is that person.”

TJ had managed to pull Alex several yards away from the SPG table while Angelica talked to the students who had gathered. “You don’t win voters by insulting them,” he said.

“Fuck you,” Alex retorted.

TJ took a breath and counted to ten, resisting the urge to knock Alex down. “You want Randolph to win?”

“That is the stupidest question I ever …”

Angelica came up behind him and Alex looked over at the table to see a pretty brunette smiling and handing out fliers.

“Come on,” Angelica said to Alex, “we’re going to go get some coffee.”

TJ nodded and went to join the girl at the table while Angelica took Alex’s arm and more or less dragged him across the quad. She shoved him into a seat in the cafeteria. “Don’t move,” she ordered. “Don’t even think about moving.”

Alex sat seething until she came back with coffee. “I got you decaf with lots of milk,” she told him, taking the seat on the other side of the booth.

“You got me fucking _decaf?_ ” Alex snapped. “Why the hell?”

Angelica glared at him. “Why do you think?”

Alex stirred his coffee sulkily. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes I get overexcited,” Alex admitted, glancing up at her.

His eyelashes were dark, thick, and almost straight, and she found that inconveniently distracting. She did her best to stay angry to avoid the distraction. “No shit. Do you think maybe you could stay focused on the goal?”

“I don’t understand how anybody could vote for Blodman,” Alex said. “I mean, I really don’t. Name one quality he has that would make him a good President.”

Angelica sighed. If they had more volunteers in the SPG, she’d just tell Alex to go away, but they had barely gotten enough people to man the table for two days, and that was only because she’d bribed Eliza into volunteering in exchange for doing her laundry this week. She took a sip of her coffee. “Alex, you don’t have to convince me to vote for Randolph. I’m already in. The thing is, you’re not going to convince anyone else by telling them they’re stupid.”

Alex shrugged. “They are if they vote for Blodman.”

“Not the point,” Angelica told him. “What’s our goal?”

“Um, that Randolph wins the election?”

“Right. How do we convince people to vote for him?”

Alex pushed his hair back. “Look, I know. I know I should have handled it differently.”

“You think?”

He looked up at her again, and beneath the thick lashes, his eyes were a dark, warm brown. Angelica looked at his eyes and forgot what she had been going to say.

“Okay,” Alex said, “tell me how I can do a better job.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, of course. You have more experience at this political volunteering than I do, and we both know that Blodman would be a disaster for the country. I don’t want to be responsible for his getting a single vote. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, but I tend to shoot my mouth off when I’ve got a strong opinion.”

Angelica smiled. “I might have noticed that.”

Alex smiled back at her. He had a killer smile, set off by the scruffy goatee. She pulled her attention back to the subject. “Well, first, you should have talking points. It was great that you brought up Randolph’s speech on religious tolerance and his experience, but you have to stay focused on those things, on the qualities that will make him a good President. If somebody says he’s boring, give them a quote from the speech, or talk about his work for education, whatever you think will seem interesting to the person you’re talking to.”

Alex had pulled out his phone and was tapping the keyboard. Angelica stared at him. “You’re actually taking notes?”

“Yeah, sure, and making reminders of things I want to look up. I can review Randolph’s speeches and memorize some particularly important lines so that I can use his own words.”

Angelica nodded. “That would be great.”

“And I really ought to be more familiar with his educational policies, since we’ll be talking to college students.”

“You’re taking it seriously.”

Alex stopped typing and looked directly at her. “Fucking right I am. It’s our future.”

* * * * *

John and Herc had been to Betsy’s for coffee and were walking back across campus before class. John wanted to visit the student housing office to see if they had any listings for off-campus apartments. Hal Pelham was a nice enough guy, but he was way too gregarious for John to cope with, so the sooner he got out of the dorm, the better. Herc lived with his mom and brothers and sisters in a two-bedroom apartment, so he didn’t quite understand John’s desire to live alone, but if it made John happy, that was cool.

As they crossed the quad, they saw that there was a table set up with political posters and students handing out fliers. Herc happened to be wearing his _Puck Folitics_ shirt, so John thought it would be fun to get a couple of campaign buttons to put on it.

There were two girls and a guy behind the table, and the taller of the girls seemed to be the one directing things.

“Hi,” she said with a smile. “Are you guys registered to vote?”

“I am,” Herc responded.

John shook his head. “Not in New York,” he told her. “I just moved here.”

She handed him some paperwork. “You can use this to register by mail, or go to the website to register online. It’s really easy.”

John nodded, looking at one of the fliers. “You guys are supporting Randolph, right?”

“We are,” the girl replied. “I’m Angelica Schuyler, and I’m the president of the campus chapter of Students for Progressive Government. We’d love to see you at our next meeting.”

John was sort of looking past her at the guy standing impatiently a couple of feet to her left. He seemed vaguely familiar, and as soon as Angelica finished her sentence, he gestured at Herc’s shirt and demanded, “You don’t mean that, do you?”

“What?” Herc asked, frowning.

“Fuck politics.”

“That’s not what it says,” Herc pointed out.

“Yeah, I know, but …”

“Alex,” Angelica interrupted hastily, “why don’t you tell them about Governor Randolph’s education plan?”

“Right, right,” Alex nodded, and launched into a detailed description of education goals from preschool to college.

As soon as he paused for breath, John broke in, “What about endangered species? You know there are several species of North American turtles that could become extinct if we don’t do something immediately. I’m really worried about the bog turtle.”

“Bog turtle?” Alex asked, blinking. He took a good look at the questioner’s face. It was a very nice face, right now frowning in sincere concern.

“We’ve practically destroyed its habitat,” John went on, “and the wood turtle is in trouble too, although probably not quite as much as the bog turtle.”

Alex looked at Herc questioningly.

“What can I say?” Herc sighed. “He loves turtles.”

“Turtles are an important part of our ecosystem,” John said firmly. “Plus, they’re just really cool animals.”

“Okay,” Alex agreed, nothing daunted, “you know Governor Randolph is very concerned about the environment. He plans to keep Bartram on at the EPA.”

“Good,” John nodded, “but Bartram’s ready to retire. He’s going to have to be looking for somebody new pretty soon.”

“Right,” Alex said, racking his brain for anything he could remember about Randolph’s environmental policies. “Look, how about if you come back in a little while. I can catch up on the Governor’s positions on turtles, and give you the particulars. I’m Alex Hamilton, by the way.”

“John Laurens,” John responded.

Herc reached between John and Alex to offer his hand. “Hercules Mulligan,” he said.

Alex shook his hand. “Any issues I can check on for you, Hercules?” he asked.

“Nah, and call me Herc, please,” Herc responded. “I already know I’m voting for Randolph. Blodman’s a moron.”

“Yes!” Alex agreed enthusiastically, punching the air. “We need you guys at our meetings.”

“When’s the next one?” John asked.

Angelica was busy, so Alex turned to the other, quieter girl. “Hey, Eliza, when’s the next meeting?”

“It’s tonight, Alex,” she replied patiently. “Do you need me to text you a reminder?”

Alex flushed. “No, of course not. What time is it?”

Eliza raised her eyebrow at him. “Seven o’clock, and before you ask, in the meeting room in Angelica’s dorm.”

“Which is?”

“Seriously?”

“Hey, I’m a freshman. I just got here.”

“So am I, but I know which dorm Angelica is in.”

“Well, she’s your sister, so duh …”

“Are you trying to be a smartass?”

Alex had already dealt with a Schuyler sister’s anger once, and wasn’t eager to do it again. “Sorry, sorry, really, just tell me, okay?”

He looked so abject that Eliza started to laugh. “It’s Concord,” she told him, “on the other side of the library.”

Alex thanked her and turned to John and Herc. “How about if you guys join us tonight at seven in the meeting room in Concord? We’re the Students for Progressive Government.”

Herc looked at John, then back at Alex. “Yeah,” he said, “we can do that.”

* * * * *

Angelica always hoped that more people would show up for SPG meetings as the election got closer. Tonight there were only about twenty, and some of them had obviously just come for the refreshments. She addressed the group first, talking about their get-out-the-vote efforts and trying to get volunteers to help register more college students. Then TJ talked for a while about some of Randolph’s plans and his positions on important issues so that everyone would be well-informed. Still, there was a distinct lack of enthusiasm in the room, and most of the attendees cleared out as soon as the meeting adjourned.

John and Herc lingered to help clean up, but Angelica ignored the used cups and paper plates and threw herself down on the ratty green couch against the wall. “I hate everybody,” she declared.

“No, you don’t.” Eliza told her. “You love me.”

“Okay,” Angelica agreed grudgingly.

“And Peggy,” Eliza added.

“Who’s Peggy?” TJ asked.

“Our other sister,” Eliza said. “She’s only a sophomore in high school.”

“Is she as cute as you two?” TJ inquired, grinning.

Eliza just stared at him, and Angelica snapped, “Oh, go fuck yourself.”

Alex snickered. “That line wasn’t as smooth as you thought it was,” he informed TJ.

John and Herc, watching the SPG officers interact for the first time, both laughed.

Angelica sat up straight, glared at TJ, and then said, “Seriously, guys, why is there so little interest in this election?”

“I wish I knew,” Alex said. “Did you see the polls today have Blodman within four points?”

“He can’t actually win, though, can he?” Eliza asked. “Everybody likes President Washington, and he’s campaigning for Randolph. My dad says Randolph is a sure thing.”

“Nothing’s a sure thing in politics,” TJ declared.

“You know I hate to agree with TJ,” Alex said, “but he’s right.”

John suddenly sat up straight, looking from Alex to TJ and back again. “That’s where I know you from!” he exclaimed.

“What are you talking about?” Herc asked.

John was grinning, and Alex couldn’t help thinking how his smile transformed his face. It was as if John’s face was made to smile, and when he was serious, he didn’t even look like himself.

“When I first got here, I was sitting out in the quad, and I saw you two having an argument,” John said, waving his hand at Alex and TJ.

“Well, that could have been practically any day since they met,” Angelica commented. “They’re roommates, can you believe it?”

“Not for long,” Alex pointed out.

“You hope,” TJ retorted.

“Seriously, TJ, you don’t want me there any more than I want to stay.”

“And there they go …” Eliza said.

“What do you fight over?” Herc asked. “I mean, you’re both here working to get Randolph elected, so you must share a lot of beliefs.”

“It’s not our beliefs,” Alex began. “It’s …”

“His attitude,” TJ finished.

“Oh, for the love of God, shut up, both of you!” Angelica ordered.

John was shuffling through his ever-present sketch book. He pulled out a paper and handed it to Angelica. “Here,” he said. “Maybe you can hang this up to remind them.”

  
Angelica took one look at it and burst out laughing. TJ lunged to grab it, but Alex got in his way, jumping up and demanding, “What is it? Let me see!” and Angelica successfully handed the paper off to Eliza.

“Oh, it’s perfect!” Eliza declared. “I’m getting a frame for it.” She smiled at Alex and TJ and said, “I’ll show it to you if you behave and promise not to touch it.”

They both agreed, although unwillingly, and Eliza turned the paper so they could see it.

“Brad Barker and Stanley Stunning,” Angelica announced, “frenemies forever.”

For a few seconds, Alex looked furious, but then he started laughing. “He got us, didn’t he, TJ?”

TJ seemed embarrassed rather than angry and was bright red to the roots of his hair, but he nodded. “Yeah, that’s us.” He turned to John. “I’m not scared of him, you know.”

“Right,” John nodded, “it’s just a caricature.” His eyes met Alex’s, and he smiled.

* * * * *

Herc had suggested that Betsy’s might be a good place to hang some posters and leave some fliers, so Alex, Angelica, and Eliza met him and John there in the morning.

“Where’s TJ?” John asked with a smirk.

“He has class,” Alex responded. “We can all enjoy a cup of coffee without him.”

“You and TJ are more alike than you’ll ever admit,” Angelica said.

Alex glared at her, but for once didn’t take the bait. The young woman at the counter called their order number, and Herc and Eliza went to get it.

“Extra milk, one sugar for John, shot of espresso, four sugars for Alex, one sugar, no milk for Angelica, and tea for me,” Eliza recited as she handed out the cups.

Herc grabbed his own coffee and chocolate chip scone. He put another scone in front of John and asked, “Who’s got the mocha cupcake with fudge frosting?”

“That’s mine,” Alex said happily.

“So both Schuyler sisters must like blueberry muffins.”

Eliza nodded. “They’re not as good as mom’s, though.” She eyed Alex’s cupcake. “Isn’t that awfully sweet for breakfast? Especially with your super-sweet coffee?”

“No,” Alex replied defiantly, taking another bite. “Oh, hey guys, I have an announcement. I got a job!”

“Oh, congratulations,” Angelica said. “What is it?”

“I’ll be working in the library. It’s a financial aid job, so I’m limited to fifteen hours a week, but it’s still good.” He looked around the table at them and decided to be honest. “I’m here on scholarship, and it covers my educational expenses, but not anything else like, well, coffee. I’ve been pretty broke.”

“I’m on scholarship too,” Herc acknowledged. “I’m lucky I can live at home, but yeah, spending money’s hard to come by. I worked all summer, so I have to budget the money I made to last through the school year.” He made a fake-sad face. “I may not be able to afford a chocolate chip scone every single day.”

“Don’t worry,” John told him. “I’ll take care of your scone habit.”

Herc reached over and tousled John’s curls, and they both laughed. Alex watched them, trying to figure out their relationship – more than friends, not quite boyfriends? He liked them both, but he would have been happier if John was unattached. John was cute, but there was more than that. He could see that John was guarded, even with Herc, but every once in a while, John’s face lit up with a smile, and it was like the room was flooded with sunshine. He wanted to be able to bring that sunshine into the room more often. He wanted to know why there were shadows that sometimes blocked it.

“So did you get a chance to talk to Betsy about leaving some fliers here?” Angelica asked Herc.

“Yeah,” he responded, “she said to leave as many as we want on the counter, and we can put up posters in the window.”

“Great!” Alex said, and dug into his backpack. “I brought tape.”

Angelica rolled her eyes. “Of course you did.”

“You should be happy I’m prepared,” Alex told her.

“I am, but I’m even happier that Betsy is letting us post stuff here.”

“She’s a big supporter of Randolph,” Herc said. He took the last bite of his scone and looked over toward the counter, but Betsy must have been in the kitchen. “How well do you know Betsy?” he asked.

“Not at all, really,” Angelica told him, and the others just shrugged.

“I’ve known her for a while,” Herc said. “Her name was Betsy Griscom. She’s from our neighborhood, so my mom knows her family, that sort of thing. About five years ago, she came out to her family, and all hell broke loose.”

“That’s terrible!” Eliza exclaimed. “How can families be like that in this day and age?”

“It happens,” John muttered, looking down at his coffee.

“What did they do?” Alex asked.

“Disowned her. They literally threw her out of the house, packed all her stuff in boxes and put it out the door.”

“How old was she?” Angelica wanted to know.

“Eighteen, so legally an adult, but she was supposed to start college, and of course her parents withdrew all financial support, and it was too late to apply for scholarships. My mom went and tried to talk to Betsy’s parents – I mean, my mom’s known I’m gay forever, and she was always fine about it, so she thought maybe she could get them to listen, but it didn’t go well.”

“What happened?” Eliza asked, her sympathy for Betsy evident on her face.

“Well, when they told my mom that I was going to hell, she told them there wouldn’t be any room for me there because all the space would be taken up by idiots like them.”

“I love your mom!” Alex yelled.

“Yeah, so do I,” Herc grinned. “My mom takes no shit from anybody.”

“So how did Betsy end up with the coffee shop?” Angelica asked.

“She had a girlfriend – that’s why she came out to her parents; she had met this girl, Jackie Ross, that she really liked. Anyway, Jackie was working here at the time, and she had her own apartment, so Betsy moved in with her and started working here too. They were really cute together, and Betsy held her head up high. She didn’t avoid the old neighborhood or anything, because she knew she didn’t have anything to be ashamed of. It was Mr. and Mrs. Griscom who would hide inside their apartment if Betsy was around. Anyway, after about a year, Betsy and Jackie got married. Betsy started using Jackie’s last name because she said if the Griscoms didn’t want her, she didn’t want their name.”

“So, a happy ending,” Eliza smiled.

“Not quite,” Herc continued, his face grim. “A month after the wedding, Jackie was killed in an accident. It was just a random thing, a driver ran a red light as Jackie was trying to cross the street. Betsy was devastated. She’d lost her family, even if they were still alive, and then she lost the woman she loved. It was pretty bad.” He stopped talking for a minute and glanced over at John, who remained silent. It occurred to Herc, too late, that this whole story might be way too personal to John. He had to finish it now, though. “The thing was, Jackie had life insurance, and she’d made Betsy the beneficiary. The owner here had been getting ready to sell, and the place reminded her of Jackie, so she used the life insurance to buy this business, or at least put a down payment on it. She’s still struggling to make ends meet, so I try to bring all my friends here.”

“We’ll definitely support the business,” Eliza declared.

“For sure,” Alex agreed.

“So she backs Randolph because he’s in favor of marriage equality?” Angelica asked.

“Well, partly that, sure,” Herc said, “But Blodman doesn’t seem to have an opinion one way or the other. It’s George King that worries Betsy.”

Alex nodded. “I get that. Blodman’s Vice Presidential pick is as narrow-minded as they come. He’s homophobic, transphobic, xenophobic, and most other phobics. I mean, even if he never becomes President, the fact that Blodman picked him means that under his amusing façade, Blodman must share some of those views.”

“Exactly,” Herc agreed. “King reminds me of those creepy lizard people from that old TV show. What was it called?”

Nobody could remember, but since the subject had moved away from a topic that made John uncomfortable, he finally looked up and smiled. “I’d like to make a TV show about turtle people, but they’d be friendly and helpful instead of creepy.”

“Great idea,” Alex said, “but I think somebody beat you to it.”

“What do you mean?” John asked.

“Leonardo, Donatello, Michelangelo, and Raphael,” Alex told him.

The all laughed, and John conceded that Alex was probably right. Alex always liked hearing that, so he smiled at John. “What is it with you and turtles?”

John shrugged. “They’re interesting,” he said, “and they’re good at hiding.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okieriete Onaodowan (whom I will refer to hereafter as Oak to make my life easier) has actually been photographed in a tee shirt that says “Puck Folitics.”  
> The bog turtle and the wood turtle really are endangered.  
> John Bartram (1699-1777) was one of the first practicing Linnaean botanists in North America so I made him head of the EPA.  
> Betsy Griscom's Quaker parents did in fact disown her when she eloped with John Ross, who was not a Quaker. Children have been upsetting their parents for centuries. In real life, Betsy, who was widowed at age 24, supported herself by doing sewing and upholstery, and eventually making a flag. In this story, I've given her a coffee shop.


	3. I Think Your Pants Look Hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Herc join the SPG. Alex tries to get to know John better. Kat Livingston is shocked by a revelation.

“So, listen,” Alex was saying to John, “you could design posters, right?” He was sitting across the table from John in Betsy’s, and none of their other friends were there. This might be a good opportunity to get to know him better.

“Sure,” John nodded. “What do you want?” He got his sketch book and some pencils out of his backpack.

“We have to focus on issues that affect college students, because our goal is to bring out the youth vote.”

“Okay, so like student loan debt?”

“Exactly. Cost of college in general. I mean, it used to be possible for a middle class kid, even a working class kid, to go to college and not end up thousands of dollars in debt. Now they can’t.”

“Can you get me some numbers on that?” John asked. “It’s going to be more persuasive if we work with facts.” He pulled out a spiral notebook and scribbled some things in it.

Alex grinned. “Yeah, you’re right.” John wasn’t just another pretty face. He was smart, and he cared about all the things Alex cared about – helping people in need, providing economic opportunities, equality, the environment. He liked him a lot. The thing was, he liked Herc too, and he didn’t want to try to cut in on him. Well, maybe he did. It didn’t seem as though John and Herc were in a committed relationship at this point, so maybe now would be the time to make a move.

“Where did you go to high school?” he asked casually.

That was a mistake. John’s face closed, all the light going out of it. He looked away. “I went to a prep school,” he said.

Alex didn’t ask him which prep school or where it was. He just said, “You didn’t like it.” A statement, not a question.

John exhaled sharply. “Not much.” He stared at the table and fiddled with his pencil.

“I went to high school not too far from here,” Alex said, keeping his tone casual. “I was living with my cousin at the time.”

“You couldn’t stay there, though?” John asked. “I mean, like Herc does, so you wouldn’t have to room with TJ.” He smiled faintly.

Alex didn’t return the smile. “My cousin died.”

“Oh, shit, Alex, I’m sorry.” John looked up, embarrassed that he’d made Alex think about his cousin’s death.

Alex shrugged. He faced John directly. “It was an overdose. He had – what can I say? He had problems.”

“Fuck,” John muttered, but his eyes were still on Alex. “I’m sorry. It sounds like hell.”

“It wasn’t good,” Alex said, “but it wasn’t the worst thing I ever had to deal with.”

John’s eyes searched Alex’s. He wondered what the worst thing was, but asking would open a conversation, and he wasn’t ready for that. Alex’s eyes were dark, so dark that sometimes it was hard to see the pupils. Alex was good at keeping secrets behind those dark eyes, but John kept secrets too. For now, he reached across the table and touched Alex’s hand lightly. Alex turned it palm up and curled his fingers against John’s. They were both silent, and then Alex’s phone dinged and he grabbed for it. John went back to sketching poster designs, and the moment was gone.

“It’s Angelica,” Alex announced. “She wants to know if I talked to you about the posters.” He gave an annoyed snort. “She thinks she has to check up on me all the time.”

“Almost like she was your girlfriend,” John said, raising his eyebrows.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Alex told him, but he sounded a little defensive.

“Does she know you’re gay?” John asked pointblank.

“Actually, I’m not gay,” Alex said.

“Bullshit.”

Alex smiled. “I’m not saying I don’t like guys. I do, but I also like girls.”

“You’re bi?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh. I don’t think I know anybody else who’s bi.”

“You probably do. We don’t all wear matching shirts or anything.”

John laughed. “I get that. I’ve had people tell me they don’t know anybody else who’s gay. I just did the same asshole thing they do, making assumptions.”

“It’s okay,” Alex told him. “At least you didn’t tell me I had to pick gay or straight.”

“I’m not that much of an asshole. Do people really say that?”

“Oh, yeah. Or they ask me which one I like better, as if I have to have a preference.” He shrugged. “I’ve dated girls; I’ve dated guys. No preference.”

John nodded. “You are who you are.”

“Right.”

“You dating anybody now?” John asked.

“Mm, not exactly.”

John snickered. “That’s such an Alex Hamilton response.”

“God, now you sound like Angelica!” Alex was laughing, though. “I’ve been sort of seeing a girl, nothing serious, more like friends. You might have met her – Kat Livingston. She works in the student housing office.”

“Yeah, I know who you mean. I was in there the other day, asking about off-campus housing.”

“Really? You want to move off campus?”

“Yeah, I do. I mean, my roommate’s a good guy, but I just need my own space. I don’t like having a roommate.”

Alex nodded thoughtfully. “You didn’t have a roommate at your prep school?” He knew he was taking a risk, coming back to a subject John didn’t want to talk about, but his desire to learn more about John overrode his better judgment.

He didn’t get any information, really, just a brief answer as John’s face darkened. “No. We had private rooms.” He didn’t want to think about those private rooms.

Alex wanted to kick himself for being an idiot. “More coffee?” he asked awkwardly.

“Yeah, that would be good,” John said, and Alex went to the counter, giving John a minute alone and mentally beating himself up for pushing John to talk about himself. John had been hurt, that was evident. Alex understood hurt, but Alex also knew he was tougher than John. He wondered what John’s childhood had been like. He thought back on his own early years, in Puerto Rico, then in Martinique. In his memory, it all seemed like sunny beaches and evenings with books. Whatever his mom’s flaws had been – and there was no denying she had flaws – she had loved him. They hadn’t had much, but she had made him feel like he was the most gifted and brilliant person in the world. She absolutely believed that he would grow up to do great things. Everything he did now was aimed at justifying her faith in him.

He was a little nostalgic, as he always was when he thought about his childhood and his mother, and without thinking, he spoke in Spanish as he put the cups on the table. _“Un café con leche para ti y un espresso para mí.”_

_“Muchas gracias, mi amigo,”_ John responded, a broad grin lighting up his face. _“Tu hablas español?”_

_“Claro que sí!”_ Alex was astonished. How did this trust-fund prep-school kid speak Spanish with a Puerto Rican accent? _“Pero donde aprendiste?”_

John laughed out loud at the look on Alex’s face. “I could ask you the same thing,” he said.

“I was born on Puerto Rico,” Alex told him.

John’s eyebrows went up. “Really? With a name like Hamilton?”

“Really. And you? With a name like Laurens?”

“I was raised by Puerto Ricans.”

“What do you mean?”

John looked away for a moment, then turned back. “My parents were busy a lot,” he said. “Ana and Manuel took care of us.”

“Us? You’re not an only child?”

John shook his head. “I’m the oldest of five,” he said softly, and his eyes filled.

“Hey,” Alex reached for his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand, but I never meant to upset you.”

John’s hand tightened on Alex’s briefly, and then he let go and swiped it across his eyes. “It’s okay,” he said, and started gathering up his papers and pencils, shoving them into his backpack. “I should get going anyway if I’m going to get these done in time for the meeting.” He offered Alex a lopsided smile. “I don’t want to get in trouble with Angelica.”

Alex watched him walk out of the coffee shop, his backpack over his shoulder, his untidy curls hanging over the collar of his jacket. John moved effortlessly, unaware of his own grace and beauty. Alex was conscious of a tightening in his chest, a longing to gather John up in his arms and make all his hurts go away. It wasn’t a feeling he was familiar with.

* * * * *

Kat Livingston had joined Students for Progressive Government, and while Alex wasn’t exactly thrilled about it, he tried to remind himself that getting votes for Randolph was more important than giving John the impression that he was available. Anyway, his relationship with Kat was a casual one, so it shouldn’t make any difference. It was just that John was still coming to meetings with Herc, and it seemed like maybe they were becoming a couple, and people were starting to see Alex and Kat that way too. He was even beginning to speculate about Angelica and TJ. That left Eliza on her own, but she didn’t seem to mind. She had baked brownies for the meeting, and people were munching on them as John presented the posters he had designed. He had done four, all of them impressive, all the templates ready to go to the printer the next day.

“We need to get these up all over campus,” Alex reminded the audience, “and we need to remind everybody we see that they only have three more days to register. You can register online up until midnight on Friday.”

“I registered online a couple of weeks ago,” John said, “and I already got my voter ID card.”

“You can vote even if you don’t have your card,” Angelica put in hastily. “Your name will be in the database, so no problem.” She looked around at the group. “You’re all registered, right?”

There were nods here and there, but she was concerned. “Okay, show of hands. If you’re registered to vote in the state of New York, raise your hand.”

Everybody’s hands went up, and she scanned the room. “Alex, get your hand up,” she said in a quick aside.

Alex didn’t move, and she glared at him. He mumbled something.

“What?”

“Can I just tell you later?”

“Fine.”

After the meeting was adjourned, the officers and committee chairs stayed behind, as usual – Angelica and TJ, president and vice president, Eliza, who was secretary, and Alex, who had been named treasurer because nobody else wanted it. They had appointed John as publicity chair because he could design a poster or a flier at a moment’s notice, and Herc hung around to be with John. Tonight Kat Livingston was with them too, and they were finishing off the brownies and cleaning up the room.

“Why the hell didn’t you put your hand up when I asked who was registered?” Angelica asked Alex, visibly annoyed. “Please tell me you didn’t forget or something stupid like that.”

“Of course I didn’t forget!” Alex snapped. “Voting’s the most important responsibility a citizen has.”

“So then, you’re registered, right?”

Alex looked at his feet. “No.”

Angelica shot a glance at TJ, who stepped closer. “Why the hell not?” he demanded.

Alex flushed and didn’t meet their eyes. “Because I’m only seventeen. I won’t be eighteen until January.”

There was silence in the room, everyone staring at Alex.

Angelica was the first one to recover. She took a breath. “You’re only seventeen?”

Alex nodded.

TJ and Angelica looked at each other. Kat Livingston put her face in her hands silently. After a few seconds, John started to laugh. Alex shot an angry look at him, then hung his head and said in a small voice, “I can’t help it.”

John laughed even harder, and Herc snickered, and then everybody was laughing. Even Alex managed a faint chuckle.

“Why didn’t you ever mention it?” Eliza asked, still giggling.

“I don’t know,” Alex replied defensively. “Nobody ever specifically asked how old I was. It’s a little embarrassing to be younger than everybody else.”

“I thought you were nineteen, at least,” Kat said.

“It’s because I’m very mature,” Alex pointed out quite seriously. That set Angelica off again.

“You are a lot of things, Alexander,” she told him, “but mature isn’t the first thing that comes to mind.”

“I am!” Alex argued.

“Of course you are, Alex,” Eliza said, as if she was talking to a toddler. “Have another brownie.”

Alex accepted the brownie, but still looked distressed. It didn’t help when Kat said, “Alex, I’m twenty-one.”

“That’s cool,” Alex told her with a shrug.

“Not really,” Kat responded.

“What do you mean?”

“When I thought you were two years younger than me, that was okay, but just barely okay.”

“Why does it matter?” Alex demanded. “I’m still the same person. You’ve liked me up to this point, so what’s changed?”

Kat looked embarrassed and uncomfortable. “What’s changed is that now I know how old you are. I can’t date a guy four years younger!”

“Why not?” Nobody was laughing now, and Alex was getting angry.

“I just can’t, okay? I don’t feel right about it,” Kat said, her voice shaky.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous. Four years is a huge difference. You’re not even a legal adult.”

Alex bristled. “What, you think I’m going to bring statutory rape charges?”

Eliza gasped, Kat turned bright red, and John said, “Oh, shit.”

Without another word, Kat grabbed her purse and left, slamming the door behind her.

The rest of them were silent. Finally Alex muttered, “I probably shouldn’t have said that.”

“Oh, my God, you think?” Angelica was appalled. “Do you have any idea at all how to talk to people?”

“I’m sorry,” Alex said.

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to.”

“You’re right,” Alex nodded. “Do you think I should go after her?”

“No!” Angelica, Eliza, and Herc all spoke at the same time.

“You’re such an idiot,” TJ muttered.

John was still speechless.

Alex nodded again. “I should write her a letter. Maybe send flowers.”

“That’s good,” Eliza said encouragingly. “Flowers would be nice.”

“You think she’ll go out with me again?” Alex asked.

John found his voice. “Not a fucking chance in hell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alexander Hamilton was born on Nevis, not Puerto Rico. I changed his birthplace for two reasons: first, having him live in both Puerto Rico and Martinique easily explains his fluency in Spanish and French; second, Puerto Rico is a US territory and everyone born there is an American citizen. Even though Puerto Ricans who move from the island to the mainland are no more “immigrants” than citizens who move from Kansas to California, they often face the prejudice that many immigrants must deal with. I will use that in this story.  
> Alexander Hamilton flirted (to say the least) with Catherine “Kitty” Livingston, but nothing ever came of it.  
> If these notes are starting to sound too much like lectures, please tell me. I tend to get carried away when I start talking about history.


	4. The World Turns Upside Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The SPG works to get Randolph elected until the last possible minute. Election Day arrives. Motives are examined.

In the final days leading up to the election, Peyton Randolph was campaigning nonstop. President Washington, who had nothing but praise for Randolph, had speeches scheduled in Cleveland, Kansas City, and Green Bay. Vice-President Akhdir would be speaking to crowds in Tampa, Dallas, and Detroit. Members of Congress and a few governors were endorsing Randolph daily on TV. In the meantime, Blodman was appearing on all the late night shows, joking about his own career hosting a popular talk show, and explaining that being President was more a matter of choosing the right advisors than of having extensive experience. He always pointed out that Senator George King, his Vice-Presidential nominee, was smarter than he was as proof that he’d surround himself with brilliant people.

“King is smart,” Alex said to TJ, his voice worried. “He’s smart, and he’s ambitious, and he’s manipulative as hell.”

“At least he’s not running for President, and Blodman’s a healthy fifty-five, so he’s not likely to become President,” TJ responded.

“I know, but if King is an example of the kind of people he’s going to have on his staff, it doesn’t look good.”

“Oh, come on, Alex, Randolph is a million times better qualified than Blodman. You don’t have enough faith in your fellow citizens.”

“I don’t know.” Alex bit his lip. “The people who say Randolph is boring aren’t wrong, TJ. I mean, we know he’s brilliant, and that he’d be an outstanding President, but he’s not charming and charismatic the way Blodman is.”

“Charismatic? That moron?”

“Let’s be realistic,” Alex said, pulling up some polling numbers on his phone. “You and I are better-informed than a lot of voters. We’ve paid close attention and studied the issues. Of course we’re supporting Randolph. But what about Joe Shmoe out in the middle of Nowhere, Idaho, who just started thinking about the election last week? Joe’s going to turn on his TV and see Randolph giving a completely correct but not exactly scintillating speech on economic policy, and then he’s going to watch Blodman cracking jokes with Colbert. Who’s he going to vote for?”

“Joe Shmoe’s an idiot,” TJ muttered.

“Right,” Alex agreed, “but there are a hell of a lot of Joe Shmoes out there. I wish Washington had convinced Vice President Akhdir to run.”

TJ nodded. “Me too,” he admitted. “I don’t like the way this is starting to look.”

Alex was quiet for a minute, reviewing the latest numbers on his phone. “How many volunteers do we have for making calls on Election Day?” he asked.

TJ counted on his fingers. “You, me, Angelica, Eliza, John, and Herc.”

“That’s it?”

“Some other people said they might show up, but I don’t know if we can depend on them.”

Alex shoved his hair off his face impatiently. “That’s the problem – people just aren’t taking this seriously. We need more phone workers.”

TJ nodded. “Let’s see who else we can find. They don’t have to be students here, do they?”

“Not for this. They don’t even have to be registered voters. They can be anybody who wants a competent President.”

“Let’s get the search out.”

Alex contacted as many people as he could think of, and Eliza, as secretary, texted everyone who had ever attended an SPG meeting. They started getting responses in a few minutes. Herc said that his sister Venus, who was sixteen, would be happy to make calls, and John, who was at Betsy’s when he got the text, persuaded the barista Patty to volunteer. She was a senior in high school and a supporter of Randolph. Kat Livingston politely replied to Eliza that she wouldn’t be available, but her younger brother Johan, who was a freshman, would probably be willing, and she sent Eliza his number. Angelica was in the middle of a class on Constitutional Principles, so she asked Dr. Barron’s permission to make an announcement, and Nate Pendleton, Joe Allicocke, and Debby Sampson all signed up. It wasn’t enough, but it would help.

They started the day before Election Day in the meeting room in Angelica’s dorm where they had held all their meetings. They went through the lists of registered voters, making call after call, reminding people to vote, and urging them to vote for Peyton Randolph. Angelica had made up scripts for them to follow so that they would include all the information necessary and could make as many calls as possible.

_“Hello, this is Angelica Schuyler – Tom Jefferson – Venus Mulligan – John Laurens. I’m a volunteer with Students for Progressive Government, and I’d like to remind you to vote tomorrow. We hope you’ll be voting for Peyton Randolph, but if you haven’t yet decided, please keep in mind that Governor Randolph has more than twenty years of experience in government, and that he has promised to continue the successful policies of President Washington. Thanks for your time, and don’t forget to vote!”_

“It’s fine to answer questions,” she told them, “but be brief and courteous. If they say they’re voting for Blodman, tell them politely –” she looked directly at Alex “ – that you hope they’ll reconsider. If they say they don’t have a way to get to the polling place, put them on our ride list. We’re going to start calling promptly at ten. Betsy has sent coffee and muffins for us, so everybody remember to thank her next time you’re there. Okay, guys, I don’t want to sound melodramatic here, but the future of our country depends on this election, maybe more than any other one in a long time. Let’s get out the vote for Peyton Randolph!”

There was some applause, but Angelica, TJ, and Alex were all aware that the level of enthusiasm was lower than it should be. They started calling and worked straight through until twelve-thirty, when a pizza delivery guy showed up with boxes stacked high.

“This the SPG?” he asked an astonished Angelica, who had been about to tell everybody to break for lunch on their own. “Half regular and half pepperoni. I’m supposed to say lunch is on a friend.”

“Can we find out who sent it?” TJ asked. “We’d like to say thanks.”

The delivery guy shrugged. “You’ll have to ask the boss,” he said, accepting the tip TJ handed him and heading out the door.

“I didn’t even know we had friends,” Angelica commented, taking a bite of pizza. “Or, at least, I thought all our friends were here.” She looked around the room and inquired, “Any of you guys buy us all this pizza?” She got no response except derisive laughter.

“Whoever sent it, we should just enjoy it and be grateful,” Eliza said.

They polished most of it off in short order, and went back to the phones. Alex had to leave at two o’clock for work, and was afraid they wouldn’t be able to manage without him, but Angelica assured him she would cope. Venus and Patty were due to come in after school, so they’d pick up the slack. They were going to try to continue until nine at night, and they’d be starting again at nine the next morning. Tomorrow was Election Day, and it would be their last chance to get out votes for Peyton Randolph.

Alex was distracted during his hours at work, frequently checking his phone for polling updates and news stories. There was too much contradictory information, and the polling had tightened to the point where none of the news programs were making predictions about who would win. He hurried back to the meeting room as soon as his shift was over, and found that most of the phone volunteers had already left. Herc’s sister was still there, though, along with Patty, and Kat’s brother Johan, who had been shadowing TJ all day. Alex was tired, but he wanted to get in a few more calls. He grabbed a cup of coffee and tapped in the next number on the list. Johan, sitting next to him at the table, was the first one to notice that Alex had gone off script.

“All due respect, sir,” Alex was saying, “but surely you realize that voting is not only a privilege, but the duty of any responsible citizen?”

Johan, himself in the middle of a call, waved frantically at Angelica.

“I didn’t use the word irresponsible,” Alex went on his voice getting louder, “but if the shoe fits…”

Angelica dropped her own phone and headed across the room.

“Fine, then, _don’t_ bother, it’s obvious you don’t give a damn about the _entire fucking future_ of your fucking _country!”_

Angelica grabbed Alex’s phone and disconnected the call. Alex looked up at her, breathing hard.

“He said he wasn’t going to vote,” he explained.

Angelica nodded. “I gathered.”

Alex looked like he was on the verge of tears. “He said it didn’t matter.”

The part of Angelica that wanted to slap him for losing his temper was overwhelmed by the part of her that wanted to comfort him. She sat down next to him and put her arms around him. “You can’t make everybody do the right thing,” she told him.

“I don’t understand,” Alex said against her neck.

“Me neither.” She looked around. Most of the volunteers had paused their calls when Alex started yelling, and everybody looked exhausted. “Let’s call it a night, guys,” she said, and nobody objected.

Alex got up and went to get more coffee and rummaged around until he found a slice of cold pizza to go with it. Nate, Joe, and Debby left, and Herc and his sister headed for the bus to go home. The rest of them collapsed around the room, John and Johan stretching out on the floor.

“I feel like we should all be singing ‘One Day More’,” Eliza said, her voice weary.

Patty looked around thoughtfully. “We probably have enough people. I’ll be Eponine.”

“I was only kidding,” Eliza told her.

“What in the world are you talking about?” John asked, propping himself up on his elbow.

_“Les Mis,”_ Patty said, turning to him so quickly her ponytail swung around. “The musical?”

John lay back down. “I don’t really like musicals.”

“Oh, but you have to see _Les Mis!”_ Patty insisted. “It’s amazing. At least check out the movie.”

“Don’t watch the movie,” TJ weighed in. “It’s not that great.”

That sparked protest from both Patty and Eliza, so Angelica called them to attention. “The point my sister was trying to make, before we got sidetracked into the merits of film production, was that we really do have only one more day before our next President is elected. By this time tomorrow night, the polls will be closed. I really believe that Governor Randolph is going to win, but we have to keep working until the last minute. Now everybody get some sleep, because tomorrow’s going to be a long day. Tomorrow night, we’re all going to be in Alex and TJ’s room to watch the returns.” She looked over at Patty. “You too, if you want, and if your parents say it’s okay.”

“I’m eighteen!” Patty reminded her.

“Older than Alex,” TJ snickered.

“Shut up!” Alex snapped.

Angelica threw up her hands. “Just go,” she said. “Get as much sleep as you can, meet back here at nine in the morning.”

They dispersed, most of them to their dorms, but John had promised to walk Patty home, since she lived a few blocks from campus.

“It was nice of you to come help out,” he said to her, shoving his hands into his pockets. It was only the second week of November, but it was getting cold.

“It was fun,” she told him. He could see her smile in the glow of the streetlights. “Anyway, this is the first year I’ll be voting, so I feel like I should participate.”

“Yeah, that’s good.” Small talk wasn’t John’s strong suit.

Patty looked up at him through her lashes. “Did you order the pizza?” she asked.

“What?” John tried hard to pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about.

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

John scuffed his feet on the sidewalk. “Why do you think so?”

“Because I’ve seen you put tens and twenties in the tip jar when you think nobody’s looking.”

“Shit, Patty, don’t say anything …”

“I won’t, I promise,” she said. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know.”

He shook his head. “I have a trust fund my grandfather left me. I’ve never done a day’s work to earn the money that’s putting me through school and giving me an allowance that’s probably more than Alex or Herc – or you – have ever seen in your life. You can say it’s nothing to be ashamed of, but it’s nothing to be proud of either.”

“You’re a good guy, John Laurens,” she said, putting her hand on his arm for a moment.

John shrugged, and they walked in silence for a few minutes.

“School’s closed tomorrow, so I can be there all day,” Patty said, changing the subject. “I’ll stop at Betsy’s first and get the muffins. She wants to send more tomorrow.”

“Really?” John asked. “She shouldn’t. Not that we all don’t appreciate it, but she’s losing money doing that.”

“It’s okay,” Patty told him. “She wants to. She can’t come make phone calls, so she’ll make extra muffins.”

John nodded. “She’s a nice person.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of crumpled bills. “Will you put that in the tip jar when she’s not looking?”

“Sure,” Patty promised. She hesitated, and then put her hand on his arm again. “John …”

John touched her hand lightly, but shook his head. “Don’t say anything. Please.”

“Okay.” They kept walking, and in a few minutes, she stopped and pointed. “This is my building right here.”

“Okay, then, I’ll see you tomorrow.” John gave her a smile and turned to walk back to campus. Patty stood for a while looking after him, watching him move from light to shadow and back again beneath the streetlights.

* * * * *

The polling places in New York had only been closed for half an hour when NBC called the state for Randolph. Raucous cheers went up in Alex and TJ’s living room area, which was crammed with SPG members. Eliza put another tray of pizza bagels into the toaster oven (TJ’s, of course), and Alex handed out cans of cold drinks. He made himself a cup of coffee, and then sat on the arm of the couch, watching the TV.

Massachusetts was called for Randolph, and then New Jersey, both states with considerable electoral votes. Then there was a long wait while the news people said that Virginia, North Carolina, and Pennsylvania were too close to call. Virginia? Peyton Randolph’s home state? Alex started chewing on his lip, and the room got quieter.

“I can see North Carolina being close,” Angelica said, “but Pennsylvania? Really?”

After another half hour, Virginia was called for Randolph, and there was a sigh of relief, but Alex was uncharacteristically silent. Virginia should have been a landslide. The fact that Virginia had been close was worrying.

South Carolina and Georgia were called for Blodman, and everybody booed. The rest of New England went for Randolph, but they were small states with small populations. North Carolina was called for Blodman, and Pennsylvania was still too close to call.

“We should have Pennsylvania with no problem,” TJ muttered.

“Yeah, what’s with Pennsylvania?” Herc asked, frowning. “The polls said Randolph was way ahead.”

TJ shook his head. “I don’t like this.”

Florida, with its twenty-nine electoral votes, was called at nine-thirty for Blodman, and then at ten o'clock, Pennsylvania followed.

“Fuck,” Alex said.

Angelica was twisting a strand of hair around her finger. “Randolph should take Ohio.”

“Not if he didn’t get Pennsylvania. Ohio always skews just a little right of Pennsylvania,” TJ told her.

“Maybe we should get rid of the Electoral College,” Patty suggested, and Alex spun around to face her.

“First, that’s not going to help for this year, and second, maybe you need to review the basis for the Electoral College,” he snapped. “If you want the President elected only by the populations of a few urban centers, that’s fine, but if you believe rural areas also deserve representation, we need it. I’ll be glad to go over it all with you another time, but right now, we have the Constitution we have, and the President is elected by the electoral vote, not the popular vote.”

Patty looked like she was about to cry, and Alex took a deep breath. “Sorry,” he said briefly. “I didn’t expect the map to look like this.” He turned back to the TV, and Patty sniffed a couple of times, and then started talking to Venus.

“You don’t really think Blodman can win, do you?” Eliza asked Angelica. “Dad was so positive Randolph had it.”

“I don’t know,” Angelica responded, her phone in her hand. “I’m texting him now.”

Herc called his mom, and Johan texted his father in Dutchess County. Everybody had been expecting Peyton Randolph to win easily.

John got up off the floor, and came to stand next to Alex. “How bad is it going to be if Blodman wins?” he asked softly.

Alex turned to him, his eyes troubled. “Bad,” he said. “Best case, Blodman’s just an idiot, but he’ll have advisors who will keep him from starting a war or something. Worst case, the advisors will all be cronies of Vice-President King, and Blodman will be their puppet.”

“Do you think King set Blodman up?” John asked.

Alex’s eyes opened wider. “Shit, John, how could I not have thought …?” He looked wildly around the room. “TJ, come here. Listen to this.”

TJ crossed the room and joined them, and Alex told John to repeat what he had said. He did, a little bewildered, and TJ’s jaw dropped.

“Jesus!” he gasped. “Do you think it’s possible?”

Alex nodded slowly. “Think about it. King could never get elected President. I don’t even know how he made it to Congress, but winning a gerrymandered Congressional district isn’t that hard if you have the money for the campaign, and King’s got money. He’s power-hungry, though, and he wants more control than he can ever get in Congress, so he finds a pawn like Blodman that he can push to run for President. It’s certainly possible.”

“Blodman gets to be the affable guy on TV, but King runs everything behind the scenes,” TJ commented. He looked uneasily at the TV just in time to see Ohio, Indiana, and Michigan go for Blodman.

“Michigan?” Alex turned to Venus, who was some kind of math genius and had numbers all over her iPad. “Can Randolph still pull it off?” he asked.

“Barely,” Venus responded. “He has to get Illinois, which I think he will, and then Wisconsin and Missouri, along with the west coast states.”

“He’ll probably get Wisconsin,” TJ said, “but Missouri? I don’t know.”

He didn’t get either. The room grew silent as the states were counted up one by one. It was two o’clock in the morning before they knew for sure. Angelica stood staring at the final count on the TV screen, tears running down her face. TJ came up behind her and put his arms around her, and she didn’t even slap him away, just leaned back against him. Eliza sat on the couch crying next to Alex, and he pulled her in for a hug, not able to offer her much comfort. John was on the floor in front of them, his head down to shield his face. Alex reached his other hand out and laid it on John’s shoulder, and John reached up and touched his fingers. Herc had one arm around his sister, and the other around Patty, who was talking earnestly to Johan. “I just don’t understand,” she was saying. “So many people worked so hard.”

Alex sat contemplating the future of his country. It was bad enough that Peyton Randolph, an intelligent, experienced, highly qualified candidate, had lost the election. But what if it was worse, as John had suggested? What if Blodman’s win was really a front for the ruthless ambition of a power-hungry George King? What if King, manipulating his puppet from behind the scenes, was going to take the country down a destructive, regressive path to feed his own ego?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of (necessary) politics in this chapter. For the record, I share Alex’s opinion of those who don’t bother voting. The future is a shared responsibility.   
> Politics will of necessity be part of this fic, as it was of the real Alexander Hamilton’s life. We’ll see how the new political situation begins to affect the lives of our squad.  
> In the “actual historical facts” department, Kitty Livingston’s brother was named John, not Johan, but I have to use name variants since pretty much everybody in 18th century America was named John, James, Sarah, or Elizabeth. Nathaniel Pendleton and Joseph Allicocke were members of the Sons of Liberty in New York (as was Hercules Mulligan). Deborah Sampson was a Massachusetts woman who dressed as a man and served in the Continental Army under an assumed name. She served for more than a year, fought in combat, and was wounded, but was eventually discovered. Unlike other women who tried to serve in the Army, she was honorably discharged and (get this!) was awarded a military pension.  
> We may see more of Nate, Joe, and Debby.


	5. Je m’Appelle Lafayette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TJ has a surprising announcement. Alex makes a new acquaintance and introduces him to the squad.

Betsy’s had become the de facto meeting place for what was left of the SPG. A lot of members had quit after the election, displaying a _“What’s the use?”_ attitude that infuriated Alex.

“We don’t give up on what we believe in,” he said to his friends. “I get it, we can’t do anything about Blodman for four years, but we can stay in contact with our Senators and Representatives, and there will be Congressional elections in only two years. I have some ideas I want to talk to you guys about.” He stood up and stretched. “I need more coffee.”

“He consumes way too much caffeine,” John commented, watching him walk away. “Does he ever sleep?”

TJ snorted. “Not much. I hear him rattling around at three in the morning.”

“Is he still trying to change roommates?” Angelica asked.

“Actually, no.” TJ didn’t elaborate, and Alex returned to the table.

“So you’ve decided you can put up with TJ after all?” Herc asked him with a grin.

Alex looked across the table at his roommate. “Did you tell them?”

TJ shook his head. “I guess now’s as good a time as ever.” He looked around the table. “I won’t be back next semester. I’m transferring to William and Mary.”

There were expressions of surprise from everyone, and Angelica asked the obvious question, “Why?”

TJ shrugged. “I just think it’ll be a better fit.”

Alex rolled his eyes and addressed the others. “That’s what he keeps telling me. I think it sounds like guidance counselor babble, but that’s all I can get out of him.”

“Seriously, TJ, do you not like it here?” Eliza asked.

TJ ran his hand over his face. “It’s not that.”

“Then …”

“For one thing, William and Mary is a lot closer to home,” TJ said.

“Yeah, terrible the way you’ve been missing your parents so much,” Alex commented. “I mean, you call them every … um … month or so.”

“William and Mary has a good Poli Sci department,” Angelica commented, “but I don’t think it’s better than ours.”

“Probably not,” TJ agreed.

“So then why?” she persisted.

TJ didn’t say anything, looking down at his coffee.

“It’s Alex, isn’t it?” John asked finally, a mischievous grin on his face. “You can’t stand being on the same campus as him, right?”

TJ laughed. “That’s it, John. You figured it out.”

Alex smacked John on the arm, then reached across to smack TJ, but TJ grabbed his arm and pushed it away. “Don’t even, Alex,” he said.

“I could, you know,” Alex told him.

TJ’s eyebrow went up. “Arm wrestle?”

“For?”

“I win, we don’t talk anymore about my transferring. I’m tired of it.”

“Okay. I win, I get your job as vice president of the SPG.”

“I think that would be up to the membership.”

“Actually, the charter says I could appoint a new vice president until next year,” Angelica said. “I’m okay with appointing Alex if he wins.”

“Democracy in action,” Herc muttered.

“Here and now?” TJ asked.

“Absolutely,” Alex declared.

“I’m clearing the dishes before you guys break something,” Eliza said.

John got up. “I’m warning Betsy,” he explained, walking to the counter. He returned with Patty, who wanted to watch. They all moved their chairs back to give TJ and Alex room.

Herc had appointed himself referee. He told them to square up, then counted, “Ready, set, go!”

Despite the fact that Alex was considerably smaller than TJ, they were pretty well-matched. It went on longer than anyone expected it to, TJ turning red in the face, and Alex clenching his jaw. Herc kept a close watch to be sure elbows didn’t leave the table, and after an intense three minutes, TJ shoved Alex’s arm to the table. There was applause, including some from Betsy, who had watched from the counter, and some complete strangers who had come in during the match.

Alex, who hated to lose at anything, no matter how trivial, was mortified, but Herc made them shake hands, and TJ didn’t gloat as much as he might have.

“Okay, no more talk about TJ’s transferring, everybody,” Alex reminded them.

“I don’t remember anybody saying we were all bound by your agreement,” Angelica objected, but then she relented. “Okay, I may not understand, but no more questions.”

“Thanks,” TJ said, giving her a small private smile.

“So who’s going to be the new vice president of the SPG?” John asked.

Angelica looked around and shrugged. “Alex, I guess.”

“Really?” Alex asked, his face lighting up.

Angelica laughed. “Alex, for sure you’re the most qualified person here, but it’s not like there are candidates lining up around the block.”

Alex nodded. “We have so much work to do.”

* * * * *

The week before Thanksgiving, there was an unexpected warm spell, and Alex was taking advantage of it to eat his lunch in the sunshine of the quad. For once he was by himself, everybody else either in class or busy with something else, so he sat on the stone wall munching his cheese on whole wheat, the cheapest reasonably nutritious thing available, and checking his Twitter feed.

He’d barely gotten started when he was distracted by a guy on one of the benches who was apparently having a fight with his girlfriend on the phone. In French. Alex tried not to eavesdrop too obviously, but it was kind of interesting, especially since the guy was getting louder as the conversation progressed. He probably didn’t realize Alex could understand every word.

 _“Non!”_ the guy said emphatically, pushing the unruly curls off his forehead. _“Non, Adrienne, je viens de te raconter…”_

He paused to listen, but rolled his eyes impatiently. _“Parce que je le veux,”_ he retorted, obviously irritated. He listened again for a moment, then added, _“Jusqu’à je n'le veux plus.”_

 _Ooh,_ Alex thought. _Quite the smartass._

There was a longer pause, and then the guy broke into whatever Adrienne was saying. _“Non, tu comprends pas, c'est pas...”_ She must have interrupted him because he slammed his hand down on the bench. _“Merde, Adrienne, écoute-moi. Je ne te mens pas.”_

Alex could tell by the guy’s face that he was really pissed. His jaw was set, but he continued to try to talk. _“Pourquoi tu crois que c'est toujours …”_

She evidently cut him off again. _“Putain, Adrienne, c'est fini donc,”_ he snapped, and hung up, shoving the phone into his pocket.

 _“Bah, j’en ai marre de ces conneries,”_ he muttered, getting up. As he did, he saw Alex sitting on the wall and realized that he must have overheard the phone conversation. He gave a brief apologetic shrug.

 _“Les femmes sont quelquefois difficiles,”_ Alex said sympathetically.

 _“Ah, merde!_ ” the guy groaned, dropping his face into his hands. _“Tu parles français.”_

 _“Oui, désolé,”_ Alex responded, laughing. He held out his hand. “Alex Hamilton.”

The French guy, obviously embarrassed, started laughing too, and shook Alex’s hand. “Gilbert Motier,” he said, pronouncing the name in French, “and I should be practicing my English.”

“I take it Adrienne doesn’t speak English.”

Gilbert shook his head. “And now,” he said ruefully, “I think maybe she doesn’t speak to me in any language.” He raised an eyebrow at Alex. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough to have the impression that she disagreed with you.”

 _“Oui, ça va sans dire,”_ Gilbert admitted. “She thinks I should go back to France now because of your election.”

“So even in France they think Blodman was a big mistake?”

“Well, yes.” Gilbert looked thoughtfully at Alex. “You did not vote for him?”

“Oh, God, no.”

“I think he is very stupid.”

Alex burst out laughing. “We agree on that. Have you heard of Students for Progressive Government?”

He hadn’t, so Alex explained the organization to him and invited him to join some of them for coffee at Betsy’s later.

* * * * *

Alex had to work for a few hours that afternoon, and part of his job for the moment was archiving issues of the _Daily Spectator_ , the student newspaper. He’d already written a couple of short pieces for it and hoped to do more in the future. The problem with archiving was that sometimes an article caught his eye and he stopped to read it. After an hour and a half, he’d read a lot of interesting stuff, but the reading was slowing him down, and he still had a lot to do. He checked the time, and with only half an hour left, he promised himself to get through the rest of the pile. He was doing fine until a picture with a feature story took him by surprise. He picked up the paper and stared at it.

“Hey, Will,” he called to his supervisor, “you said I have to archive at least five copies of each issue, right?”

“Right,” Will responded, poking his head around the office corner so he could see Alex.

“But if there are more than five copies, I could keep one, right?”

Will frowned. “Sure, but you get free copies in the student center.”

“I know,” Alex told him, “but I recycle them, and I just found something in this back issue that I didn’t notice when it came out, and I want to show it to some of my friends. I’ve got nine copies of this issue.”

“Whatever floats your boat,” Will shrugged. “As long as you archive five, you’re good.”

“Thanks,” Alex said, rolling up the newspaper and shoving it in his pocket. He hurried through the rest of the archiving and finished exactly at four. He usually finished his library work early and used the time to study or do assignments. He was a little annoyed with himself for dawdling over the newspapers, but at least he had something interesting to show for it.

He met Gilbert in front of Betsy’s and took him inside to meet everybody – everybody except TJ, that is. TJ had been keeping to himself lately. There was more going on than that William and Mary was a “better fit,” but TJ wasn’t talking to anybody about it.

Eliza, Angelica, and Herc were already at a table, and John was leaning on the counter talking to Patty. Alex had texted Angelica that he was bringing a French guy he had met, but he hadn’t bothered with a description. He wasn’t surprised when the tall, good-looking guy with the mop of curly hair got everyone’s attention immediately. John stopped talking in mid-sentence, Eliza’s eyes widened, and Alex heard Angelica mutter, “Oh, _hello._ ”

Gilbert must have heard it too, because he flushed and looked away, but Alex pulled him to the table. John joined them, Patty right behind him.

“How do you like your coffee?” she asked, a little breathlessly.

“Just black, thank you,” Gilbert said with a smile.

Patty smiled back and left without taking Alex’s order. Annoyed, Alex called after her, “Four sugars in mine! And a cupcake!”

“I know,” Patty responded, not even bothering to turn around.

Alex glared at Patty’s back, but then turned around. “So, everybody, this is Gilbert. I happened to meet him in the quad this morning, and he’s interested in politics, so I invited him.”

“Are you a Poli Sci major too?” Angelica asked.

Gilbert shook his head, making his curls bounce adorably. “No, I am studying pre-med, actually. But I am very interested in politics, and especially in how government influences medical care.”

“You mean things like universal health care?” Alex asked.

Gilbert nodded. “Yes, we have this in France since more than sixty years, so I do not understand that it is not yet in your country.”

“Neither do we,” Herc said.

“So why do so many people vote for a man who opposes it?”

“Mainly economic issues and taxes,” Alex responded, and launched into a painstakingly detailed explanation of mandatory buy-ins, subsidies, progressive tax rates, and private medical insurance.

Gilbert’s face became more and more confused, and finally Angelica broke in when Alex took a breath. “What he’s saying is that many voters don’t want to pay for someone else’s health care.”

Gilbert nodded thoughtfully, and Patty arrived with coffee and pastries.

“Free scone for you,” she said to Gilbert, “since it’s your first visit.”

He thanked her and sipped some coffee.

“So, Gilbert,” Herc began, “how long …”

“I’m sorry,” Gilbert interrupted, “but that is not how you say my name. It is _Gilbert_ , not _jeel-bear._ ”

“That’s what I said,” Herc told him, frowning.

Gilbert looked to Alex for help. Alex shrugged. “They’re not going to get soft _G_ , let alone the French _r_.”

“How is it spelled?” Eliza asked, and Alex told her.

“So it’s Gilbert,” Angelica said, pronouncing it in English, “like Gilbert and Sullivan, right?”

“Who?” Gilbert asked.

Angelica waved her hand. “Never mind. Is it okay if we call you Gilbert in English?”

Gilbert considered it. “Maybe just Gil? It would be simpler, no? And also, the English _r_ sound is not beautiful.”

Herc snorted, but everyone nodded agreement.

“Actually,” Alex said, a mischievous grin brightening his face, “I happened to find out Gil’s full name today. It’s Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette.”

Alex pulled the newspaper out of his pocket, and Gil dropped his head into his hands.

 _“An Aristocrat in a Cosmopolitan City,”_ Alex read aloud. “Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette, enrolled as a pre-med major, has found both differences and similarities with his native France here in New York.”

“Marquis?” Eliza exclaimed.

“Shit, how many names is that?” John asked.

“He enjoys the more casual American lifestyle, but says that the public transportation in France is superior to ours. He also finds it strange that college is so expensive here.”

“Please stop,” Gil muttered from behind his hands. “It was a very stupid article.”

“I agree,” Alex said, tossing the paper on the table. “A total puff piece.”

“ _Pardon,_ what is _puff piece?_ ” Gil asked.

_“La flatterie exagérée.”_

_“Oui, exactement!”_

Angelica had picked up the paper and was reading it. “You’re right,” she said. “It’s not very good. All about how he’s a French nobleman, nothing about who he really is.”

“Yes,” Gil agreed, “I just say my name is Gilbert Motier, without all the other names, and I don’t use the title. I think it is all very pretentious.”

“So you’re just Gil Motier here?”

Gil nodded, smiling. “That’s right. Please, I would prefer you not talk to people about this.” He gestured disdainfully at the newspaper. “It is silly.”

“Fair enough,” Angelica told him, and everyone agreed.

Gil sipped some more of his coffee. “Although I must say, the coffee served at my castle is better,” he murmured.

There was an awkward silence, and he looked up, grinning. “Joke!”

Alex smacked him on the shoulder, and they all laughed.

“A castle, really?” John asked.

“Only a small one,” Gil responded, still grinning. “This scone is very good,” he went on, ignoring questions about the castle. “What other kinds do they make here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Château de Chavaniac, Lafayette's ancestral home, was built in the 14th century and is quite small as castles go, only 18 rooms. You can find plenty of pictures of it online.
> 
> Anybody have any guesses as to why TJ is leaving New York to attend college in Virginia? 
> 
> I hope that along with old friends who are fans of Provoke Outrage, some of you reading this are new to this verse. Let me know what you think. I love hearing from readers!


	6. Hamilton Doesn’t Hesitate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone makes plans for Thanksgiving. Angelica enlightens Eliza on an important point. Alex learns how to peel apples.

As usual, Alex was seated at the counter drinking coffee before TJ strolled out of his room, wrapped in a monogrammed bathrobe over pale blue pajamas. Alex seemed to be doing research on both his tablet and his phone at the same time, cross-checking and making a lot of notes. TJ put a K cup into the coffee maker and sat down.

Alex fiddled with his tablet some more and then muttered, “Fuck.”

“What?” TJ asked.

“How many state legislatures would it take to pass a Constitutional amendment without going through Congress?”

“Three-fourths, right? So that’s thirty-eight.”

“Blodman’s party picked up five.”

“What?” TJ grabbed Alex’s tablet and stared at it. “Why didn’t we hear about this right after the election?”

“There were recounts going on in four states, plus a lot of people don’t even realize how significant it is. They had thirty-three before the election, and we hardly ever heard discussion about possible amendments.”

“Jesus,” TJ muttered, shoving his hair off his face. “Some of the amendments you hear proposed are crazy.” He removed his coffee mug from the machine and handed Alex back the tablet.

“Yeah, I know. Like the one banning flag-burning as a form of protest.”

“That one’s just silly, really. I’m a lot more concerned about something like defining marriage as only a union between one man and one woman.”

“The Supreme Court already said that was unconstitutional,” Alex reminded him.

“Exactly,” TJ nodded grimly. “It is now, but if they amend the Constitution to limit the definition of marriage …”

“Oh, shit,” Alex said, suddenly understanding what TJ was getting at. “They could make anything that’s already been declared unconstitutional legal. Anything, right? They could bring back Jim Crow, make birth control illegal – my God, they could take our rights away.”

TJ took a breath and drank some of his coffee. “I mean, they probably wouldn’t go that far …”

“But there’s no way to be sure. A lot of people claim they voted for Blodman because he’d crack down on all this so-called liberalism. There’s some idea that the way things were in the past was better, like everybody was happy in a segregated society where women couldn’t even open a bank account.”

“It’s called Golden Age Fallacy, the belief that there was some previous era where everything was good. We studied it in psych class. It’s ridiculous, of course.”

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t attractive to a lot of people,” Alex pointed out.

“Right.”

“So what can the SPG do to be prepared?”

“Well, we’ll have quite a job monitoring all of the state legislatures along with Congress, but I think we’ll have to do exactly that, so that if some crazy amendment is proposed we can speak out against it right away, write op-eds, call our representatives, all that.”

Alex smiled. “You said we.”

TJ looked at him quizzically. “You don’t think I’m dropping out of the SPG just because I’m transferring, do you? William and Mary has a chapter.”

Alex put his coffee mug down and was quiet for a minute. “TJ …” he began.

“Don’t,” TJ cut him off. “I already arm-wrestled you once.”

“Best out of three?” Alex suggested, grinning.

“Oh, hell, no.”

* * * * *

Eliza and Angelica were at Betsy’s early since Eliza had an eight o’clock class, and they were surprised to see Patty working on a school day.

“What are you doing here at seven on a Tuesday morning?” Eliza asked her.

“Sh, I’m home lying down with a migraine,” Patty responded.

“You look remarkably well to me,” Angelica commented.

Patty shrugged. “Actually, it’s Betsy who has the migraine, so I’m covering for her. I’ve done it before, and my mom is okay with it, as long as I don’t do it too often and make up my schoolwork.”

“That’s really nice of you,” Eliza told her.

“You guys know what a sweetheart Betsy is,” Patty said. “I’ll probably be working here full time after I graduate, so it’s good that I learn how to run the place.”

“Not planning on college?” Angelica asked.

“I don’t think so. I’m an okay student, but no genius, and anyway, we don’t have that kind of money. Besides, I like what I’m doing here, and maybe someday I can open my own coffee shop, or Betsy can expand to another one and I can manage it.”

She cleared the neighboring table and headed back to the kitchen with a smile.

“She’s a nice kid,” Angelica said.

“Kid? She’s my age. I turned eighteen in August, and she turned eighteen in October.”

“I guess I was thinking of her as a kid because she’s still in high school, but you’re right, she’s older than a lot of college freshmen.”

Eliza sipped some of her tea and looked at Angelica thoughtfully. “Have you noticed anything about the way Patty looks at John?” she asked.

Angelica’s eyebrows went up. “At John? No, and I hope you’re wrong. Patty must know he’s gay.”

“I’m not sure,” Eliza said. “It’s possible that she doesn’t know. John’s nice to everybody, and it’s not like he makes out with Herc over coffee.”

“Or Alex,” Angelica muttered.

“Wait, what?” Eliza gasped. “Alex isn’t gay. He was dating Kat Livingston.”

Angelica stirred her coffee in silence, then looked at her sister. “Eliza, you know I love you more than anybody in the world, and maybe if I didn’t love you so much I wouldn’t know you as well as I do. Alex is brilliant, and he’s very, very attractive, I grant you, but be careful.”

“He’s not gay,” Eliza repeated, her tone as close to angry as it ever got.

Angelica reached for her sister’s hand. “Watch him with John,” she said. “I know they’re friends, but I think there’s more than that. I also think it’s perfectly possible that he likes both boys and girls. Lots of people do.”

“Dammit, Ange,” Eliza sniffed. “How is it that you can always see right through me?”

Angelica squeezed her hand. “I know you like I know my own mind,” she said softly. “I always have.”

* * * * *

“Hey,” Herc said to John as they left class together. “You have someplace to go for Thanksgiving?”

“Not really. I thought I’d spend the long weekend moving my stuff into the apartment.” John had found an off-campus apartment within easy walking distance of the campus.

Herc snorted. “John, everything you have will fit into two good-size cardboard boxes. It will take a couple of hours to move into that apartment.”

“I have to buy furniture,” John reminded him.

“Generally, furniture stores deliver. Of course, if you’re getting the kind you have to assemble yourself, that could take some time.”

“I might do that,” John said thoughtfully.

“Okay, here’s an idea. You come to Thanksgiving dinner with my family, we’ll spend Friday putting your furniture together.”

John kept his head down, watching the sidewalk as if there might be obstacles in his way.

Herc gave him a few minutes, then he added, “My mom said I should ask you and Alex since you guys don’t have family in the area.”

John gave him a sideways look. “Yeah? That’s nice of her.”

Herc smiled. “My mom’s pretty nice.”

“Did you ask Alex yet?” John asked, and Herc’s heart ached for a moment.

“Yeah, he said yes as soon as I mentioned pie.”

John chuckled. “I could bring pies.”

“Really?”

“I like to bake. I can just get the pans and things at Target and bake the pies in the apartment even if I’m not completely moved in yet.”

“I’m sure my mom won’t mind,” Herc said. They walked for a little longer, and then he asked skeptically, “Seriously, you bake?”

John looked up at him, a grin lighting his face. “Wait till you taste my pies.”

* * * * *

“Where are you going for Thanksgiving?” Alex asked Gil over coffee at Betsy’s.

“I have been invited by a friend of my Uncle Jacques,” Gil responded gloomily. “Monsieur Gérard and his wife are very kind, but I went there last year and it was not very enjoyable.”

“You should stay here and go to Herc’s with John and me,” Alex told him.

“That would not be diplomatic.”

“Would your uncle be mad at you or something?”

Gil shook his head. “Actually, my uncle is no longer living, but he and my aunt raised me, and Monsieur Gérard was a close friend of his, and I have already accepted his invitation, so it would be very rude.”

“Yeah, I get that.” He drank some coffee and took a bite of his cupcake. “You were raised by your aunt and uncle?”

Gil nodded. “My father died when I was two, and my mother was sick a lot. I didn’t understand it at the time, but she had cancer, and she had to keep getting treatments in the hospital. I lived with Oncle Jacques and Tante Marie most of my childhood. Then when I was twelve, the cancer finally won, and my mother died.”

“My mom died when I was twelve,” Alex said softly, reaching for Gil’s hand.

Gil looked at him, sympathy in his eyes, and touched his hand lightly, but then withdrew his own. “And your father?”

Alex shrugged, and his voice turned bitter. “He wasn’t around. I don’t even know for sure who he is. Anyway,” he went on, waving his hand as if brushing it off, “it was all long ago and far away, as they say.”

Gil refused to be distracted. “Not so long ago, I think.”

Alex’s face turned serious. “I can’t change the past. All I can do is work on the future.”

“That’s why you are so driven to improve the world,” Gil said, seeing it clearly.

Alex smiled faintly. “When my mom was sick, I was sick too. Whatever it was, though, she had it worse, and I wanted to call a doctor, but she wouldn’t let me. We didn’t have any money, and she kept saying she’d feel better after a little more rest. I was lying down next to her, and she was holding my hand. She said …” His voice trailed off, and he swallowed hard.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Gil told him.

Alex sipped some coffee, and took a breath. “I’d like to tell you about her sometime, but maybe not now. Anyway, she always told me I could do anything, could be anything I wanted to be. That’s what I think about mostly.”

“She’d be proud of you,” Gil said.

“I hope so. There’s a million things I haven’t done yet, though.”

* * * * *

There was no furniture in John’s apartment yet, but he had bought mixing bowls, measuring cups, baking pans, and enough ingredients to bake a dozen pies. He had invited Herc over to help him, and then Alex had asked if he could come too, so the three of them were crowded into the apartment’s small kitchen.

“Pumpkin, apple, and pecan,” John explained, waving his hand at the pile of groceries on the counter. “Will that be enough, do you think?”

Herc started counting on his fingers. “Each pie cuts into six slices, right? So six times three is eighteen, and there will be nine people, so we each get two pieces of pie.”

“There ought to be leftovers,” John said, looking concerned. “Doesn’t everybody eat leftover pie for breakfast the day after Thanksgiving?”

“Oh, that sound like a great new tradition,” Alex grinned.

John smiled. He had sat through fifteen years of stiff, silent, formal Thanksgiving dinners with his family, barely able to swallow a few bites, but the Friday after every Thanksgiving had been spent in the kitchen with Ana and Manuel and the other employees, eating pie for breakfast and thick turkey sandwiches for lunch. Thanksgiving Friday was just like every other day for his parents, his father at the office, and his mother lying down, but he and the little kids sat on stools at the kitchen counter, licking whipped cream off their fingers, giggling and chattering in Spanish.

He ran his hand over his face to push the memories away, and declared, “We need at least one more pie. What do your brothers and sisters like, Herc?”

“They’ll be happy with any kind of pie, but we all like pumpkin,” Herc said.

“Okay, then, let’s do two pumpkin, one apple, and one pecan,” John decided. He handed Alex and Herc index cards with recipes neatly printed on them. “I’ll work on the crusts. Alex, you can peel the apples, and Herc, you double the recipe for the pumpkin pie filling and start mixing them in that big green bowl.” He began spooning flour into a measuring cup, and then turned back to look at the other two. Herc was making notes on his card, but Alex was just standing there.

“Apples,” John reminded him, pointing to a supermarket bag full of shiny, pale green apples. “They need to be peeled and sliced, you know. Can’t put them in the pie whole.”

Alex flushed. “Um … how do you peel an apple?”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously, okay? I’ve never done anything with an apple except just eat it with the peel on.”

He was clearly embarrassed, and John tried not to laugh. “Okay, come here,” John said, positioning himself in front of the sink. “This little knife here is a paring knife. You hold it like this, and turn the apple.” He neatly removed the peel from the apple in a long spiral which fell into the sink so it could go down the disposal.

“Whoa, that’s cool!” Alex exclaimed, and confidently took the knife out of his hand.

John went back to measuring flour, and after a few minutes Alex was back at his side, his face unhappy.

John dumped the flour into a bowl and looked at Alex. “What’s up?”

Alex held up an apple with deep gouges in it but most of the peel still on. “It’s not as easy as I thought it would be,” he said sadly.

“You’re not keeping the knife parallel to the surface of the apple,” John told him patiently.

Alex bit his lip. “Couldn’t you do it?” he coaxed.

John tried not to smile. “Nope, I’m doing the crust, which is actually the hard part.”

“I keep cutting off chunks of the apple,” Alex grumbled.

“I can see that. No problem, I bought plenty of apples.”

“Yo, Alex,” Herc yelled from the other end of the counter. “Just shut up and do it. You said you wanted to come over and help, not come over and drive John crazy.”

Alex gave a dramatic sigh and went back to the bag of apples.

By the time John had rolled out the first two crusts, Herc had finished mixing the pumpkin filling, and the two pumpkin pies went into the oven. Alex was still peeling apples very slowly, with uneven results, occasionally muttering, “Fuck!” as he worked. Herc finally took pity on him.

“I’ll slice the apples,” he volunteered, and Alex murmured a heartfelt “Thank you.”

By five o’clock, the last pie – apple, of course – was in the oven, and Herc had to leave to get the bus home. John called for a pizza, and he and Alex ate it sitting on the living room floor.

Alex looked around at the apartment. The kitchen was open to the living room, and there were two decent sized bedrooms and a bath. The best thing about it was that the big windows let in a lot of light.

“How come you got two bedrooms?” Alex asked.

John shrugged. “I couldn’t find a one-bedroom close enough to campus,” he said. “Anyway, I was thinking I could use the other bedroom to paint in. It faces north, and the light is good.”

“You mean, like a studio?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s cool. You weren’t thinking about getting another roommate, then?”

John looked down at his pizza and shook his head. “I’m better off by myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you ask so many questions? Didn’t anybody ever tell you it’s rude?”

“Oh, yeah, people tell me that all the time, but I like to know things.” Alex studied John’s face, turned half away from him now, and his hands, fiddling with the edge of his sweatshirt. “I’d like to know more about you,” he added.

John huffed impatiently. “Look, I’m not very good at this whole friends thing,” he said. “I’m not going to talk about myself, so let’s just finish the pizza.”

Herc would have accepted that. Herc would have given him space and backed off, maybe saying something like “Okay, no pressure,” with a gentle smile.

Alex wasn’t Herc. “That’s just stupid,” he said.

“Fine, I’m stupid,” John agreed wearily.

Alex scooted himself across the floor closer to John. “Not you, idiot, you’re the farthest thing from stupid. But saying you’re not good at being friends is stupid. Didn’t you offer to make pies for nine people for Thanksgiving? Didn’t you make a couple hundred phone calls for Governor Randolph’s campaign? Aren’t you still willing to hang out with me even though I’m only seventeen?”

John almost smiled. “Yeah, that last one might be a mistake.”

Alex leaned on his elbow so he could see John’s eyes, those beautiful hazel eyes, golden-brown in some lights, clear green now. John met his gaze then looked away. Alex reached for his hand. “Honest to God, John, do you think I care what might have happened in your past? Do you think there’s anything you could tell me that would make me believe you’re not a good person?”

“Yeah, there might be,” John said flatly.

“Try me.”

Still looking away, John shook his head.

Alex moved a little closer to him and braced his back against the wall. He reached out and brushed a curl away from John’s face. John flinched but stayed where he was.

“Don’t be scared,” Alex whispered, and John turned to him, his eyes searching Alex’s face. Alex touched his hair again, and John didn’t move. “I won’t hurt you,” Alex said.

That was a lie, John knew. It was always a lie. But when Alex opened his arms, John went to him anyway, and when Alex leaned in to kiss him, John’s lips met his without hesitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is true that three-fourths (38 out of 50) of US State Legislatures, working together, can pass amendments to the US Constitution. As of now, the President's party controls 32 State Legislatures. I hope all my American readers are familiar with the US Constitution.  
> That's all the politics in this chapter because there is a little more emphasis on, y'know, relationships. I hope you're enjoying the way those are going for the moment. Let me know. I love hearing from readers, so many thanks for the kudos and comments so far.  
> I hope all of you have a happy Independence Day celebrating this crazy messy Republic that we have here. For the non-Americans out there, please spare us a kind thought or two on our 241st birthday.  
> Love you guys!


	7. My Heart Went 'Boom'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanksgiving is spent with friends or family. John buys furniture. TJ texts Angelica. Peggy asks a lot of questions. Eliza and Herc have an important discussion.

It might be a little irritating that her mom treated her like she was still a child, but Angelica was glad to be home. It was good to see her parents, however over-protective they might be, and it felt right that the whole family was together for the Thanksgiving holiday. She and Eliza and Peggy had stayed up late on Tuesday playing Scrabble, seeing how many made-up words they could sneak in, and challenging each other at every opportunity. Peggy had lost five points when Eliza challenged her for trying to use _drelious_ , and then another five when she challenged Angelica for _cupric_. Peggy pointed out that she was only fifteen and that she should get bonus points because her sisters had the advantage of more education, and they were all laughing as the game ended with Angelica winning, of course.

Now they were in the kitchen helping their mother prepare traditional dishes for Thanksgiving dinner.

“Mom, don’t you think they should spot me some points in Scrabble?” Peggy asked. “It’s only fair.”

“I am not going to be a Scrabble referee,” Catherine Schuyler said. “I’m sure you can work it out for yourselves.”

Angelica stuck her tongue out childishly at Peggy.

“Angelica’s picking on me!” Peggy complained.

Catherine raised a warning eyebrow at her youngest daughter, and Peggy laughed. “Just kidding, Mom! Really, I’m glad they’re home for Thanksgiving.”

“Good, then, maybe you could get started on the cranberry salad like I asked you half an hour ago.”

Peggy sighed, but started cutting up apples for the cranberry-apple gelatin salad that was part of Thanksgiving dinner every year. Eliza was mixing the ingredients for the pumpkin pie filling, and Angelica was crumbling bread for the stuffing.

* * * * *

“You guys did such a good job on these pies!” Veronica Mulligan said. “Who knew college boys could be pastry chefs too?”

“John’s the pastry chef,” Herc told her. “Alex and I just helped.”

“I peeled the apples,” Alex announced proudly, as if he was five years old.

Venus grinned at him and patted his hand. “Good for you, Alex,” she said, and he turned red.

“Where did you learn to cook, John?” Veronica asked as she cut another slice of pie for Apollo.

John’s smile faded and he tensed in his seat. “I just used to hang around the kitchen a lot,” he mumbled.

Herc gave his mom a warning glance, and she moved on smoothly, polling the kids, “Who else wants more pie?”

Herc started telling Venus about Alex’s apple peeling struggles, and John eventually relaxed. Herc’s brothers and sisters were all nice kids, and he liked them, but it was hard not to think of the four little kids in Charleston. They would all be seated around the big mahogany dining table, Marcy wearing an expensive pastel dress with her curls tied back with a matching ribbon. The boys would have white shirts and ties, and probably the baby – God, she was two now, so not exactly a baby anymore – would have some fancy little outfit. The kids would all be scared to death to put a bite of food in their mouths for fear of getting some on their clothes. John remembered once when Marcy had dropped a bit of cranberry sauce on her dress, and he had quickly knocked over the pitcher of ice tea to distract his father. The tea had made a mess all over his starched white shirt and gabardine pants, but he had seen Marcy’s grateful glance, and his fast reaction had given her a moment to scrub at the cranberry spot with a wet napkin.

He shook his head now, trying to dispel the memories. There was no point in thinking about it. He couldn’t do anything anyway.

* * * * *

TJ packed the last of his belongings in his suitcase and looked around the room. He had cleared out his books and some of his clothes yesterday while Alex was baking pies at John’s apartment. He was leaving the microwave and the coffeemaker for Alex. As much as Alex irritated the hell out of him, he recognized that they had a lot in common, not least their determination to make a difference politically. He understood the vast difference in their financial situations, and leaving him a couple of appliances seemed like the least he could do.

He hadn’t told Alex that he had managed to arrange to take his end of semester exams early so that he didn’t have to come back after Thanksgiving. Alex had commented on his increased study time, but he had had to cram a month’s work into a week. It had been easy to just give Alex a smartass answer, since that’s the way they talked to each other anyway.

“Just because you’re so brilliant you don’t have to study doesn’t mean the rest of us are,” he had snapped when Alex had asked him why he was up until two in the morning reviewing nineteenth-century diplomacy. He had taken his last exam in Dr. Barron’s office on Tuesday. Dr. Barron and his other professors had bought his elaborate story of a family emergency. He had hinted that his mother was very ill, and that he might need to be tested for transplant compatibility without coming right out and saying it explicitly. He’d explained that his mother was a very private person who wouldn’t want her health discussed, and everyone had respected his pleas for discretion. It had worked out well.

He felt guilty – well, a little guilty – but he also felt that he had handled everything in a very mature and competent way. His professors believed he was going straight home. His parents thought he’d be at college until Christmas break. He’d text Angelica and give her a blend of the sick mother story and an excuse about not wanting to have to say goodbye to everyone. He snapped his suitcase shut and picked it up. He had nearly a month to be wherever he wanted to be.

* * * * *

“I don’t think it’s going to be that bad,” Philip Schuyler said in response to his middle daughter’s question. “You’re right that Blodman doesn’t have any political experience, but George King does, and Blodman has promised that he’ll choose experienced and knowledgeable advisors.”

“Alex says that King will control Blodman,” Angelica put in. “He says King’s dangerous.”

“Who’s Alex?” Peggy inquired through a mouthful of turkey and stuffing.

“Alex Hamilton. He’s the vice-president of the SPG,” Eliza explained. “Tom Jefferson was vice-president, but he’s transferring to William and Mary, so now it’s Alex. I’m secretary.”

“Wow, two officers in the family,” Peggy said.

Angelica frowned. “It’s not like it’s a very big organization. I don’t understand why more students don’t get involved.”

Her mother smiled at her. “Not everyone is as interested in politics as you are.”

“It’s important,” Angelica insisted. “It’s our whole future.”

Philip Schuyler nodded. “You’re right, it is. I’m glad you take it seriously, but don’t forget to enjoy your college years.”

“Okay, Dad,” Angelica agreed, rolling her eyes. “I’ll try to go to more parties instead of spending all my time on the phone with my Congressman’s aides. They recognize my voice when I call now.”

Catherine Schuyler looked a little concerned. “Really?” she asked.

“Well, I may be exaggerating a little,” Angelica admitted, “but I’m pretty sure a couple of them know who I am.”

“But everything’s going all right, isn’t it? You’re doing well in your classes, enjoying things with your friends, right?”

“Don’t worry, Mom,” Eliza assured her. “I’m keeping an eye on her. She’ll make Dean’s List again this semester, and I drag her out for coffee almost every day.”

“I’m glad that you’re both at the same school,” their mother said. “I like that you can look out for each other.”

“Maybe Peggy can go there too,” Philip suggested.

“Can I worry about that in a couple more years?” Peggy asked. “Let me get through high school first!”

“How’s Ms. Crandall’s French class going?” Angelica asked with a grin.

“Oh, God, don’t remind me! Why does French have to have verbs, anyway?”

“I’m pretty sure all languages have verbs,” Eliza laughed.

“We have a verb test next week,” Peggy told her. “ _Venir_ and its friends.”

“Its friends?” her mother asked.

“Oh, that’s what Ms. Crandall calls it when there are similar conjugations,” Eliza explained. “ _Choisir_ and its friends, _venir_ and its friends, and so on. I think she thinks it’s cute.”

Angelica rolled her eyes again. “Seriously, Eliza, how much French can we really speak after three years in her class? Practically none.”

“Well, I’m sure it would all come back to you if you needed to remember it,” Catherine said. “Now, who’s ready for pie?”

Later that night, Peggy came and sat on Eliza’s bed as she had when she was little. She was wearing light blue pajamas with yellow stars and moons on them, and she curled up next to her sister. “So who’s this Alex Hamilton?” she asked.

Eliza looked at her in surprise. “He’s just a guy. Why are you asking about him?”

Peggy shrugged. “I don’t know. It was just – when Ange was talking about him, it was like he was important, you know? I thought maybe she was going out with him or something.”

“Angelica? Oh, my gosh, no! I don’t think she even likes him much.”

Peggy put her head down on Eliza’s shoulder. “I bet she does,” she said.

* * * * *

“I need to get a car,” John said to Alex as they sat on the bus headed downtown.

“Are you nuts?” Alex asked. “Where would you even keep it?”

“My apartment building has a garage. I’d just have to pay for the garage space.”

“Yeah, about five hundred dollars a month.”

“Nah, only three fifty.”

“Only?”

“It’s okay.”

“Jesus, John, three hundred and fifty dollars a month? For a parking space?”

John shrugged. “I need a car.”

“Why? We’re on a bus. You can take the subway. You can even take a taxi if you want. What are you going to do with a car?”

“Well, for one thing, I could go get furniture tomorrow and we could assemble it.”

Alex gave him an incredulous look. “You think you can go buy a car and buy furniture in one day? Oh, and it happens to be Black Friday.”

“I may not have planned well,” John admitted, trying not to smile.

Alex grinned at him. “Here’s an idea. We can go to Ikea or wherever to get the assemble-it-yourself furniture, and take a taxi back to your place.”

“We?” John asked.

“Well, yeah,” Alex said. “You want my help, right?”

John looked at him from under his eyelashes. “You ever put furniture together before?”

“Well, not exactly, but it comes with instructions, doesn’t it?”

“Alex, you couldn’t even peel an apple. I don’t think I want you putting my bed together.”

Alex gave him a fake-hurt look. “That’s a completely different skill set.”

John shook his head. “I don’t know if I trust you with tools.”

“Come on, give me a chance,” Alex coaxed, and put his hand over John’s.

John finally smiled. “We still talking about furniture?”

* * * * *

“Isn’t Ikea from Sweden or something?” Herc asked, frowning at the instructions.

John was efficiently attaching a table leg with an Allen wrench. “Yeah, why?”

“I’m just wondering why they don’t use words. It’s a good thing two of us are art majors.” Herc glanced over at Alex, who was staring blankly at a page of diagrams.

“Is this for the table or the chairs?” Alex asked.

“The chairs,” John told him patiently. “I’m doing the table, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, right,” Alex nodded. He kept looking at the paper and picked up a rounded piece of wood about a foot long. “What’s this thing?”

Herc looked over his shoulder at the diagram. “That’s the stretcher.”

“The what? What does it stretch?”

“Nothing, that’s just what they call the piece that goes between the legs,” Herc explained patiently. “It makes the base stronger.”

“Well, it’s a stupid name,” Alex muttered. He hated being bad at anything.

John looked at Alex’s miserable face and laughed. “Pizza break?” he suggested.

Herc had assembled the bed, which was now set up in the smaller bedroom waiting for sheets and blankets, and John had completed the chest of drawers and almost had the table done. Alex had finished about half a chair. They still had a bookshelf and three and a half chairs to do. John had also bought a couch and a large upholstered chair that were going to be delivered on Saturday.

Alex had been astonished at the way John spent money, picking things out without even checking how much they cost. Alex had spent his life carefully comparing prices on everything from shoes to toothpaste, and he had no idea what it was like not to have to worry about money. John’s family apparently kept him amply supplied with cash but didn’t include him in Thanksgiving dinner. He knew better than to ask John about that strange situation directly, but maybe if he was careful, John would open up about it.

* * * * *

“Well, this is crazy,” Angelica said, staring at her phone.

“What?” asked Eliza.

“I got a text from TJ.”

“Who’s TJ?” Peggy wanted to know, but they ignored her.

“Yeah, and …?”

Angelica handed Eliza the phone.

_“Sorry not to say goodbye in person, but leaving now for Virginia. Arranged to take exams early & need to get home to see my mom. Can’t really give details so more later. Please tell Eliza, John, & Herc I said bye. Maybe Alex too if you feel like it. Love you.”_

Peggy grabbed the phone out of her hand.

Eliza frowned at Angelica. “What the hell?”

“I know, right? He’s just gone like that? And what’s this about taking his exams early? I’ve never heard of anybody doing that.”

“What does he mean about his mom?”

Angelica shook her head. “I have no idea.”

“He _loves_ you?” Peggy inquired.

Angelica waved her hand in dismissal. “That’s just TJ being TJ. I’m forwarding this to Alex.” She tapped her phone.

“Good idea,” Eliza agreed.

“Why Alex?” Peggy demanded.

Angelica glared at her youngest sister in annoyance. “You ask too many questions.”

“It sounds like TJ doesn’t like Alex,” Peggy persisted.

“Yeah, well, Alex can be a pain,” Angelica told her briefly. Her phone dinged, and she showed the screen to Eliza.

_“What the actual FUCK???”_

Angelica and Alex exchanged a few more texts, but the only conclusion they came to was that neither of them had had any idea that TJ was leaving college before the end of the semester. Alex explained that he had spent Thanksgiving at the Mulligans’ apartment and had been at John’s apartment all day Friday, so he hadn’t seen his roommate. _“But I wasn’t looking for him, so who knows?”_ he added.

“Maybe he’ll get in touch next week,” Eliza suggested to her sister.

“It’s just strange, even for TJ,” Angelica responded. “He’s not irresponsible.” She thought about it for a few minutes, and continued, “I’ll talk to Alex when we get back.”

She shoved her phone in her pocket and went upstairs.

Peggy waited until Angelica was out of hearing and then said, “She likes Alex.”

Eliza turned on her little sister. “Shut up,” she snapped.

* * * * *

On Monday morning, Eliza saw Herc at Betsy’s and sat down across the table from him.

“Did Alex tell you about TJ?” she asked.

“Yeah, that’s just weird.”

“I know.”

“He left Alex the microwave and stuff in their room,” Herc said. “Left him a note saying he should keep it.”

“That’s even weirder. He doesn’t even like Alex.”

“Yeah, Alex was having a real struggle about accepting gifts from TJ,” Herc laughed.

“He’s keeping them, though, right?”

“Oh, yeah, Alex isn’t going to pass up a free coffeemaker.”

Eliza smiled and drank some of her tea. “So you guys were all at John’s on Friday?” she asked casually.

Herc nodded. “Yeah, we were assembling his new furniture. Well, John and I assembled the furniture. Alex complained about the instructions and ate pizza.”

“I haven’t seen John’s apartment yet,” Eliza responded. “Is it nice?”

“Really nice,” Herc told her, “and now he’s talking about getting a car.”

“Seriously?”

“He says he needs one, and the apartment building has garage space to rent.”

“Isn’t that expensive?”

“John doesn’t care.”

Eliza stirred her tea thoughtfully. “What do you know about John’s family?” she asked. “I mean, don’t tell me anything if I’m being too nosy, but he never even mentions them.”

“I don’t know much,” Herc admitted. “I know his mom died a couple of years ago, and he’s estranged from his father. He’s got two sisters and two brothers, all a lot younger than him, but he’s not in contact with them.”

“That’s awful! Why not?”

Herc picked up his coffee and took a sip, looking somewhere past Eliza. “I don’t know. He really doesn’t like to talk about his family. It took him a couple of months to even tell me that much. I don’t ask him anything about them because it upsets him. Maybe he’ll open up about it sometime, but not yet.”

Eliza hesitated. “Herc, do you mind if I ask …not that it’s any of my business, but are you and John …?”

Herc met her eyes, and she saw the regret in his. “For a while there, I thought maybe we were,” he said, “but now … I guess not.”

Eliza put her hand on his. “Because of Alex?” she asked, her voice not quite steady.

Herc nodded, watching her, and saw her eyes fill with tears. “Oh, no,” he whispered, taking her hand in his and squeezing it. “Alex?”

Eliza turned away so that her face was sheltered from the rest of the room and wiped her eyes with her napkin, nodding. “Stupid, isn’t it?”

“Probably. I kind of thought it would be Angelica,” he said.

“It might be,” Eliza told him.

“Oh, shit, both of you?”

“I don’t know, maybe. I don’t think Angelica would actually go out with him, though. She’s a realist.” Eliza sniffed and wiped her nose.

Herc smiled at her. “And you’re what, a romantic?”

“An idiot.”

“Love’s a funny thing.”

Eliza sat up straighter and took a gulp of tea. “I don’t think I’m in love with him, really. I’m just … interested in him. Do you think he’s in love with John?”

“I wish I knew. There’s no doubt he and John are attracted to one another, but in love? I’d like to say I hope not, but if John’s in love with him, I want John to be happy.”

“You’re so sweet,” Eliza said, smiling a little.

“If you care about somebody, you want them to be happy, right?’

“Yeah, I know you’re right.” She looked a little uncomfortable, and then went on, “Angelica says Alex likes boys and girls.”

Herc nodded slowly. “He’s been pretty open about being bi.”

“So I’m not sure what that would be like.”

“I can’t see that it would be any different from me dating somebody who was gay or you dating somebody who was straight.”

“I know. I mean, theoretically, I know, but I’m not sure how I’d feel about it.”

Herc chuckled. “Have you ever dated a guy who was attracted to girls?”

“What? Yes, of course, what do you mean?”

“That’s what it would be like.”

Eliza stared at her tea cup and felt herself blush. “Right. Of course. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me.”

She smiled at him and drank the last of her tea. “On a sort of related topic, do you think Patty has a crush on John?”

Herc ran his hand over his face. “I was actually wondering about that the last time we were in here. She was definitely very attentive to John. We’re going to have to casually but clearly mention to her that he’s gay.”

“Why is everything so complicated? I’m emotionally wrung out and it’s only eight forty-five in the morning. I think I’m just going to skip my nine o’clock class and have more tea.”

“Sounds like a good idea. How about a scone to go with it?”

“Make it a blueberry muffin, and I’m in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's see, Angelica and Eliza are falling in love with Alex, who is falling in love with John. Patty might be falling in love with John. Herc is trying not to be in love with John. And what about Gil, who was away for Thanksgiving, but just broke up with his girlfriend? As Eliza asks, why is everything so complicated?  
> I'd love to hear your opinions on that or on anything else. Tell me what you think.


	8. We Make Our Mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody hangs out in John's new apartment. Alex explains Thanksgiving, Patty reveals some personal information, and John spills a can of soda, causing unexpected problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in getting this finished. I was out of town for a week, and it's hard to work when I'm dashing from place to place. I'll be at my desk for most of this week, but I also have to work on another project, so my forward progress is kind of a zigzag.

John had invited everybody over for pizza on Monday to see his now-furnished apartment. Once they’d all admired the place and gotten comfortable, the main topic of conversation was TJ’s strange behavior. They kicked different theories around for a while, but except for ruling out “kidnapped by aliens” as a possibility, they came to no conclusions. Eliza decided the subject had been exhausted and turned to Gil.

"Did you have a nice Thanksgiving?" she asked him.

He shrugged indifferently. "Monsieur Gérard and his wife are very kind," he said, "but it is not interesting."

"What do you mean?"

"Just to eat dinner. It is a strange holiday."

"Wait, you don't know about the Pilgrims and the Mayflower?" Alex asked.

 _"Lesquels?"_ Gil queried, frowning. "What flower?"

That was all Alex needed. He launched into the whole story in great detail, Pilgrims and the Church of England, the two-month ocean voyage, the Mayflower Compact, Governor Bradford, Squanto, corn and squash, even including John Alden and Priscilla Mullins, all the while emphasizing the importance of religious freedom in the early history of the country.

Gil listened patiently through the entire explanation, sipping his coffee and nodding occasionally. John got bored and tried to distract Alex by stealing his untouched piece of pizza, but not even that derailed the impromptu history lesson. Alex wound up with a speculative flourish about what was served at the first Thanksgiving dinner and then sat silently, waiting for someone to tell him what a great job he had done.

Patty, who had been invited along with everyone else, said, “Wow, you know more than my American history teacher.”

Alex beamed in appreciation and looked expectantly at the others.

"Thank you," Gil said finally, seeming a little stunned by the lecture. "That was helpful."

"You don't have to lie, Gil," Herc told him. "We all know Alex will talk nonstop whether anybody's listening or not."

Alex glared at him, then turned to John. “You owe me a piece of pizza,” he announced. “Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“No problem. Pepperoni, right? It was very good.”

“Yeah. In fact, you should probably get me two – you know, repayment with interest.”

John snorted. “You’re getting one, unless you want me to repay that repayment by telling Angelica something you don’t want her to know.”

“Ooh, what?” Angelica asked. “What doesn’t he want me to know?”

John ignored her, still looking at Alex. “One piece then, okay?”

Alex nodded, frowning. “That’s blackmail,” he told John.

“Yep,” John agreed and went to get the pizza.

“What?” Angelica repeated impatiently.

“Nothing,” Alex said. “I mean, I don’t know what he was talking about.”

Angelica sipped her Coke. “Well, what have you done lately that you don’t want him to tell me?”

Alex thought it over. John couldn’t be talking about his difficulty with peeling apples, could he? No, more likely it was his inability to assemble furniture. Either one, though, would give Angelica fodder for mocking him. He shrugged. “Can’t think of anything,” he lied.

“Ha!” John snorted, giving one of the chairs a meaningful kick as he walked by it.

“Don’t trip,” Alex yelled across the room to him.

Angelica rolled her eyes and decided to ignore them. She turned to Patty. “I saw Debby Sampson behind the counter at Betsy’s at lunchtime,” she said. “When did she start working there?”

“Friday, actually,” Patty responded. “Betsy hired her and a guy named Mark Willet last week. Business is good, and I can only work afternoons and evenings, really, so she needs a few more people.”

“There’s a guy named Willet is in a couple of my classes, but I don’t think his name is Mark,” Eliza commented. “Maybe it’s his brother.”

“Actually, this guy’s name is really Marinus,” Patty told her.

“Oh, then that’s him. Why is he going by Mark?”

Patty smiled. “He says he’s tired of answering questions about his strange name and it will just slow down waiting on people when they read it on his nametag, so he’s simplifying it.”

“I totally understand that,” Herc put in.

“Yeah, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to explain that my name isn’t Patricia,” Patty said. “People just assume it is and call me that. Usually I don’t bother correcting them, but then if I get to know them better, it gets weird.”

“Oh, it’s not Patricia?” Alex asked. “Is it Patrice or just Patty?”

Patty shook her head. “Neither. It’s Martha. There’s some really boring family story about how my mom started calling me Mattie, but then I mixed that up with Patty doing patty-cake, and, well, there we are. Patty Manning for life.”

“I don’t suppose you’re related to Eli and Peyton, are you?” John asked, sitting down on the floor next to Alex.

“Ha! I wish. We’re definitely from the less successful branch of the Mannings.”

“Who are Eli and Peyton?” Gil wanted to know. “Are they also students at the university?”

John started to explain, but once Gil understood that it was about American football, he lost interest. “American football is very complicated and violent,” he said. “I very much prefer football.”

“Soccer,” Alex corrected.

_“Pardon?”_

_“Le football est soccer en anglais,”_ Alex explained.

_“Mais non.”_

“You learned British English in school. In American English, it’s soccer.”

“Why? That is very confusing.”

Alex shrugged. “There are some vocabulary differences between British English and American English.”

Gil looked thoughtful. “I will have to pay attention to that. Last year, when I first came, I could hardly understand anything. It’s much better now, but still, sometimes, I say something and I see that people are trying not to laugh, so I know I make mistakes. I will appreciate it if you tell me so that my English – my American English – will improve.”

“Oh, be careful,” John told him. “You ask Alex to critique your English, you’re going to get lectured every five minutes.”

“That is not true!” Alex objected.

John gave Gil a sideways look. “You’ll see.”

Gil smiled. “I will learn, right?”

“Oh, definitely,” John agreed, rolling his eyes.

Alex leaned over and smacked John’s arm, and John poked him in the ribs. In trying to get away, Alex fell over Herc’s feet, so Herc joined in on John’s side. Alex, unable to defend himself against two opponents, yelled, “Hey, Gil! Help!”

Gil did a quick assessment and then grabbed Herc from behind and pulled him away from Alex. Herc was outraged to find that Gil was very nearly his match, and as soon as he got a hand free, he seized a handful of Gil’s hair and yanked it. Gil let out a yelp and started swearing at him in French, and then John, scrambling to get Alex’s hand off his ankle, kicked over a nearly full can of Coke on the floor. It spilled out over the carpet, and Eliza ran to the kitchen for paper towels.

“Knock it off, you idiots!” Angelica yelled, shoving Alex out of the way with her foot.

John jumped up and followed Eliza, telling her, “No, I’ll get it. Totally my fault.” His face was flushed and he looked really upset. He pulled open a drawer and got cloth towels, soaked one in cold water and ran back to the living room. There was an uncomfortable silence as John mopped the spilled soda with the wet towel, then blotted with the dry towel, then repeated the action with more fresh towels. He opened the cabinet under the sink and got a spray can of carpet cleaner and a scrub brush, and set to work with those. Eliza stood by, biting her lip. She offered to help twice, but John just shook his head. After about twenty minutes, the carpet appeared to be spotlessly clean, and John covered it with more dry towels. He finally stood up and spoke to his friends, but he kept his head down and his voice sounded uncertain. “If you guys could … uh … just not walk on that area … Thanks.” He went back into the kitchen and started washing out all the towels he’d used in the sink.

Eliza was on the verge of tears, and Angelica got up and put her arm around her sister’s shoulders. “It’s okay,” she said softly.

“Why is he so upset?” Eliza whispered.

Angelica stared into the kitchen where John stood at the sink alone, steam from the hot water rising around him like a cloud. She took a breath and then looked around the room until her eyes met Alex’s. She jerked her head toward the kitchen.

Alex took the few steps necessary to bring him close to her. “You think …?”

She nodded. “I think you have to,” she whispered.

Alex stood there, looking back and forth from her to John.

By now, Patty, Herc and Gil had their jackets on and were saying awkward goodbyes. Gil offered to walk Patty home, and Herc had to get to the bus stop. As soon as they were out the door, Alex gave Angelica and Eliza each a quick hug and went into the kitchen. From the doorway, they saw him go to John, then lean forward to turn off the water. He took John’s face between his hands, and then Angelica pushed Eliza out the door and closed it behind them.

John pulled away from Alex angrily. “I have to finish this,” he snapped. Alex reached for his hands and held them, and as he did so, he realized that they were red and swollen from the steaming hot water.

“You’re burning your hands, babe,” he said softly.

“I’m fine,” John told him, not meeting his eyes.

“What happened?” Alex asked, still holding the hands that must be so painful.

“I spilled the Coke and I cleaned it up,” John said flatly, as if it were that simple.

“John, you scrubbed that carpet until I thought you’d put a hole in it.”

John didn’t move. He stood in silence, staring at the floor, taking short breaths.

 _“Mi amor,”_ Alex whispered. He let go of John’s hands and put his arms around him and pulled him in, stroking his curls and whispering endearments to him. _“Mi amor, mi amado, mi corazon.”_ For a moment John stood stiffly, and then he leaned forward and buried his face in Alex’s neck.

“I can’t,” John murmured, his lips against Alex’s skin.

“You can’t what, babe?”

“I can’t do this.”

“Do what? Talk to me.” He pulled John with him into the living room and onto the couch. “Tell me, babe.”

“I thought maybe …” John stopped and gulped for air. “I thought maybe I could have friends like normal people, maybe even have a boyfriend, but …”

Alex kept touching him, maintaining the physical contact, stroking his arm, brushing back his hair. He sat close to him, his leg against John’s. “But what?”

John gestured vaguely toward the towel-covered spot on the carpet. “That.” He held his scalded hands out to Alex. “This.”

Alex kissed each hand tenderly. “Are you telling me you might have overreacted a little to a spilled can of soda?” he asked.

John didn’t smile. “I do that sometimes,” he said.

“Do you know why?”

John looked away and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Is it because of something that happened in the past?”

John nodded again.

Alex had fought his own emotional battles from the time he was twelve years old. He understood that even though his mother had been dead for more than five years, he was still trying to prove every day that he was worthy of her belief in him. He knew what it meant to be haunted by the past.

“Can that thing ever happen again?” he asked John.

John’s face suddenly went still, and he finally met Alex’s eyes. He stared at him for a full minute, then, “No,” he whispered.

Alex hadn’t been sure what John’s answer was going to be, and he was flooded with relief.

“Then it’s okay if you spill soda every once in a while.”

John nodded shakily, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I didn’t … I wasn’t looking at it that way,” he said.

Alex put his hand against his cheek and kissed him softly. “Sometimes all it takes is a different perspective.”

John kissed him back and rubbed his cheek against Alex’s hand. His eyes were bright with tears. “Do you think I’ll always be like this?” he asked, and Alex felt his heart contract.

“You mean will you always be beautiful and kind and smart and talented? Will you always want to help people and save endangered turtles? Yeah, I think so.”

John managed a crooked smile. “I mean will I always panic over stupid things and shut down when people try to help me.”

“I don’t know,” Alex told him honestly. “I doubt it, but even if you do, it’s not the worst thing that could happen. And your friends will understand.”

“Do you think they will, really? They probably never want to talk to me again.”

“Come on, they’re better than that. They’re all probably sitting up worried about you. They’re your friends. They care about you.”

“I’m not used to that.”

“I know. Maybe you could text them to let them know you’re okay.”

“I think maybe I should put some ice on my hands,” John said. “Will you do it?”

“Sure, but let me get the ice for you.” Alex got up and wrapped some ice cubes in clean towels – how the hell many towels had John bought for the apartment, anyway? – and wrapped the makeshift ice packs around John’s hands. He composed a group text for their friends: “John had an anxiety attack, but he’s okay now. He hopes you guys understand. I told him you would.”

“Is this okay?” he asked, showing it to John.

“Yeah, that’s good. You really think they’ll be okay with it”

“John, half the people I know deal with anxiety in some form. It’s kind of good to know that spilled soda is a trigger for you.”

“Spilled anything, actually,” John responded, “but maybe now that I’m aware of it, I won’t be as anxious next time. Maybe I won’t feel like I have to eradicate every trace of it.”

“Maybe not, but it’s okay if you are. Only if there is a next time …?”

“What?” John asked.

“Let us help. Let your friends help you scrub the carpet or whatever needs to be done. You don’t have to handle it alone.”

A few of the tears that had welled up in John’s eyes fell down his cheeks. “I might have trouble getting used to it,” he said.

“To what?”

“To having friends.”

Alex pulled him in and kissed his forehead and his eyelids and his mouth. John kissed him back, awkwardly, because he couldn’t use his hands, and then settled his head on Alex’s shoulder so he could kiss the spot right below his ear. “Will you stay?” he whispered. “I like this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marinus Willett, who will be called Mark in this work, was a member of the New York Chapter of the Sons of Liberty, along with Alexander Hamilton and Hercules Mulligan.  
> Patty and Patsy were both common nicknames for Martha in the eighteenth century. You may or may not have seen that one coming. How angry do you suppose Eliza is going to be with Angelica for encouraging Alex's relationship with John?  
> Tell me what you like and what you'd like to see. I love hearing from readers.


	9. You Can Be a New Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gil and Patty talk about love. Angelica and Eliza talk about Alex. Alex and John don't talk about much of anything, but not because Alex isn't trying.

Gil could see that Patty was upset, and he thought he knew why, so he started asking her questions about how her family celebrated Thanksgiving to get her mind on something else. She answered willingly enough, but briefly, not like her usual extroverted self. It was cold, and the wind was sharp, and she kept her head down.

Finally Gil gave up the pretense. “You are unhappy,” he said gently.

Patty sniffed. “Is it that obvious?”

Gil put his arm around her shoulders. “Maybe not, but usually you are not unhappy, so I notice.”

A choked sound between a laugh and a sob escaped her. “Do you know why?” she asked.

“I think so.” Patty leaned against him and he pulled her into a hug. “It will be all right.”

“How could I be so stupid?” she demanded.

“It’s not stupid to care about somebody.”

“But he’s gay!”

“Yes.”

“How could I not tell?”

He kept his hands on her shoulders but stepped back so he could see her face. “You think you can tell if someone is gay? How?”

Patty fumbled in her purse for a tissue and blew her nose. “I just feel like … I don’t know, I should have been able to sense it or something.”

Gil raised an eyebrow at her. “That is silly. It is not like that.”

She looked up at him and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Are you gay?” she asked.

He smiled. “No.”

“Herc is, right?”

“Yes.”

“It’s easy to tell with him, his style, you know.”

Gil shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s not always that simple.”

“What about Alex?”

“I think Alex likes both boys and girls.”

“How is that even possible? I mean, why? Can’t he decide?” She sounded more and more upset, and Gil didn’t want to make things worse.

“Patty, it is not something I could explain. People are who they are. They love who they love. All of us, any of us, we are lucky to find love. If we are that lucky, we take love where we find it.”

“Even if we fall in love with the wrong person?” she asked bitterly.

“Even then. I think almost everybody falls in love more than once, so it is often with the wrong person. Me, I was in love over the summer, in France, but that did not end well. Still, I am glad I loved Adrienne for a while.” He hesitated, searching for the right words in English. “She is nice, very sweet, but not right for me. She will be right for someone else, and I will find someone who is right for me.”

“You sound like you’re sure that will happen.”

“Yes.”

She put her hands back in her pockets and turned to continue toward her building. “How can you be sure? How can you know that this Adrienne isn’t the last girl you’ll ever love?”

Gil tucked his arm through hers and walked beside her. “Because I believe in love. Does that sound silly or naïve to you? That I believe that I will find the woman I will love forever?”

She shook her head. “No. Actually, it sounds very romantic.”

Gil gave her a sidelong look under his lashes. “Well, I am French, after all.”

That made her laugh. She glanced up at him, his wild curls haloed by the street lights. _I should have fallen in love with him,_ she thought, but she felt nothing except a warm affection.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome, but I have not done very much.”

“Thank you for being nice to me, and patient, and not telling me that I’ll get over it.”

“If I have helped, I am glad. I don’t want you to be unhappy.”

“I’ll be okay. It will just take some time to adjust. It’s going to be a little awkward when I see him at Betsy’s.”

Gil nodded. “For a while, but it will get easier.”

They were at her building. She stood on her toes to give him a hug, and he kissed her forehead. “ _Bonne nuit_ ,” he said.

She smiled at him and went in the door.

He walked back to the campus thinking about how complicated and painful love always seemed to be. That didn’t seem right to him. Love, real love, should be restful, like coming home after a long journey. He considered the possibility that he might be completely wrong. If he had believed in prayer, he might have prayed that he wasn’t.

* * * * *

“Thanks a lot, Ange,” Eliza said, not bitterly, but not warmly either.

Angelica put her hand on her sister’s arm. “Eliza,” she began, but Eliza interrupted her.

“I know, I know. He had to help John.”

“Yeah.”

“Why do you think John was such a mess?”

Angelica shook her head. “I don’t know. John never talks about his family or his past. I think there’s some very dark stuff there.”

“It’s a shame,” Eliza said. “John’s sweet; anybody can see that.”

“You are seriously too good for this world,” Angelica told her.

They had arrived at Eliza’s dorm, and she opened the door with her passcard. “What are you talking about?” she asked.

“You like Alex, right?”

“You know the answer to that,” Eliza responded, pulling off her gloves and shoving them in her pockets.

“And yet, you’re not angry that he stayed to help John, who also seems to more than like him, and you even say nice things about John.”

Eliza opened the door to her room. It was empty and dark. She turned on the light and saw her roommate’s bed neatly made. “Huh,” she said, “Sylvia must be sleeping somewhere else tonight.”

She took a look in the bathroom and said, “Yeah, toothbrush is gone.”

“Who’s Sylvia dating?” Angelica asked.

“Martin whatsisname, you know, the annoying one.”

“Ew, Middicks?”

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t he one of Sam Seabury’s friends?”

“Yeah, I don’t know what Sylvia sees in him.”

“Seriously, though, what would he see in Sylvia? She’s like the most boring person I’ve ever met.”

Eliza giggled, but said, “Be nice, Ange.” She threw her jacket on a hook by the door. “Why don’t you just stay here tonight?”

“Sleep in Sylvia’s bed?”

“Yeah, I promise you it’s clean. The girl is a fanatic.”

“You guys have the cleanest dorm room in the history of the world.” Angelica took her jacket off. “Okay, I will.”

Eliza looked at her gratefully. “Thanks. I could use some company tonight.”

Angelica put her arms around her. “I wish I could make everything right for you,” she said.

“Me too.”

Eliza supplied her sister with pajamas and a toothbrush, and a short later, they were settled in the two single beds ten feet away from each other.

“Ange?”

“Yeah?”

“You think Alex is in love with John?”

Angelica lay staring up at nothing, thankful for the dark. “Maybe. I mean, I’m sure he likes John as more than a friend, but … love? I don’t know how to figure that out.”

“I think John loves Alex, though,” Eliza said softly.

“John seems to have a lot of baggage,” Angelica responded. “I don’t know if Alex has the patience to deal with all that.”

“I think he would. Alex has a really good heart.”

Angelica was glad her sister couldn’t see the skeptical expression on her face. “Mm. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what happens.”

She lay awake long after she heard Eliza’s breathing become slow and regular. She wasn’t sure that Alex had a good heart, and she didn’t know if he had enough patience to cope with John’s anxieties. One thing she was absolutely certain about, though: Alex Hamilton would go after what he wanted relentlessly.

* * * * *

“You should take the ice off your hands now,” Alex said softly, hating to wake John up when he had just dozed off. He leaned over and unwound the ice-filled wrappings from John’s hands. They looked a lot better. He threw the towels in the kitchen sink with the other ones, and came back to the couch. John was sitting docilely like a well-behaved child waiting to be told what to do. Alex knelt in front of him and kissed each of his hands gently.

“How do they feel?”

John shrugged. “Okay. It doesn’t matter.”

“Don’t say that.” Alex’s voice was sharp.

“Why? I’m fine.”

“Because it matters if you’re hurt.”

John gave him a strange look, almost pitying. “Alex, if you think you’re going to have to take care of me, you’re not.”

“Have to take care of you? Isn’t that what friends do, take care of each other?”

John smiled and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Sure,” he said, but the smile never reached his eyes.

Alex got back up on the couch and put his arm around John, pulling him in as close as he could. John was warm and pliant, and he put his head down on Alex’s shoulder. Alex’s fingers tangled in his golden-brown curls, and John tilted his head back. His eyes were clear hazel-green with gold flecks, like deep water in sunlight. “You are so pretty,” Alex whispered, and John laughed a little.

“Okay.”

“C’mon, you’re heard that before.”

“Maybe.”

“It’s true, though,” Alex went on, one finger sliding across John’s cheek, where the coppery freckles were scattered on his olive skin. He traced the outline of John’s mouth. His lips were soft and ready, and when Alex kissed them, they parted willingly for his tongue. It was a long kiss, and it was Alex who pulled away first. “I should go,” he said. “It’s late.”

John smiled and started kissing him again, his mouth open, his tongue exploring, getting to know what Alex tasted like. He had his left hand on the back of Alex’s head, and his right hand ran down his spine, and then up inside Alex’s sweatshirt.

The touch of John’s hand on his bare skin made Alex shiver, and John chuckled softly as he felt that. Alex put both arms around him and lay down on the couch, pulling John with him. John pressed against him, kissing his jawline and his neck, and Alex gulped a breath.

“Shit, John,” he gasped, “we keep this up, I’m not leaving tonight.”

To his surprise, John went still, his head on Alex’s chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Alex pulled himself up on one elbow. “What the _fuck?_ ”

John swung off him abruptly and slid to the far end of the couch, tucking his knees up and folding his arms across them to make himself as small as he could.

Alex got to his feet and paced the length of the room twice, then sat down next to John again.

“Talk to me,” he said.

John’s face was hidden against his folded arms. Alex started stroking his hair. _“Habla me, querido,”_ he said.

John sat up, his face pale and exhausted. “I don’t think I can. I never talk about it.”

“You could start,” Alex suggested. “You don’t have to tell me the entire history of John Laurens tonight, but maybe give me a clue?” He kissed John very cautiously, and John didn’t resist, but the fire that had kindled half an hour ago was out for sure. “Something scared you, and I’m worried it was me, or something I said or did.”

“No – oh, no,” John told him quickly. “It’s not you.”

“Is that true, or do you just say it reflexively?”

John stopped to think about it. “Maybe I do sometimes, but I’m not lying when I say you didn’t do anything I didn’t like.”

Alex allowed himself a small smile. “Good to know.”

That almost got a smile from John. “I really, really like you, Alex,” he said. “You’re so – everything comes to you so easily. You have so much self-confidence.”

Alex laughed. “Or, as Angelica might call it, arrogance.” He put his hand on John’s. “Here’s the thing, though, _mi amor._ It may look like self-confidence or even arrogance, but I’m scared too.”

John snorted. “Yeah, right. What are you scared of?”

“Failure. Any kind of failure. I have to be the best at everything. I feel like if I’m bad at one thing, then it will create some sort of cascade effect, and I’ll fail at everything else.”

John stared straight ahead, and his mouth quirked up. “Like peeling apples.”

Alex flushed. “Yeah.”

John out his arm around Alex and pulled him close. “Yeah, I can see that now.”

“So since I trust enough to tell you the truth about myself, can you trust me?”

John bit his lip. “Maybe. I just … can I just ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“When we were making out – it was good.”

Alex smiled at him. “Yeah, it was.”

“No, I mean, it was like really, _really_ good.”

“Okay.”

“I’d like to do it again.”

Alex turned a little so he could see John’s face clearly. “Still okay,” he said, his voice a little puzzled.

John was looking down again, and chewing on his lip. “Anyway, would it be okay with you if we … if we waited a while before we did … you know, anything else?”

“Well, of course! How can you even ask?” Alex’s voice rose. “Do you think I’m going to demand sex whether you want it or not? Jesus, John, what kind of person do you think I am?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” John babbled, ducking his head again.

“Shit,” Alex muttered, and gave himself a minute to calm down. “No, I’m sorry for yelling. You took me by surprise.” He turned John’s face gently. _“ Escúchame_. I don’t know what kind of guys you’ve been around, but I promise I will never, ever expect you or pressure you to do anything you don’t want to do. Ever, do you hear me?”

John nodded. “Okay.”

“Do you believe me?”

John was trying as hard as he could. “I think so.”

Alex held him and rocked him as if he was a little kid. “We can take our time. You say stop, we stop, okay?”

John nodded again.

“On the other hand,” Alex continued, “feel free anytime to tell me to keep going.”

That made John smile. “Could I ask you for something? I mean, now?” His voice was tentative, almost shaky.

“Sure.” Alex kissed his cheek gently. “Don’t ever hesitate to ask for anything, please. If it’s no, I’ll say so, but please ask.”

“Would you sleep here tonight? Just … cuddle? Sometimes I feel really lonely.”

Alex held him tight. “I’m here as long as you want me.”

Much later, Alex lay warm and drowsy with John asleep in his arms, watching the moon shadows play across the bed as the clouds scudded through the night sky. It was only then, in the moment before he fell asleep, that he realized that John had revealed nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The names of Eliza's roommate and her boyfriend, Sylvia Johnson and Martin Middicks, were taken from a list of American Loyalists who fled to Canada. I figured they're the sort of people who would hang out with Samuel Seabury.  
> So the love triangle/quadrangle/pentagon continues with no real resolutions. It's going to take a long time for everyone to find their way. John probably needs a good therapist, but how likely is it that he'll go to one?  
> In the meantime, Gil dreams of finding his one true love [cue romantic music].  
> More political stuff coming up in the next chapters also as President Washington's term draws to a close and President-Elect Blodman gets ready to take the oath of office.  
> Thanks for the recent kudos and comments. I always love hearing from you. Let me know what you think.


	10. All the Courage You Require

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliza issues an invitation. John and Alex discuss manners, money, and fear. John gives Alex a glimpse into his past. The Political Science department has an offer for Alex.

Early December was unrelentingly gray, with sleet and cold rain, but no snow. Moods on campus were similarly gloomy, with everybody studying frantically for first semester finals and impatient for Christmas break.

“I’m going to ask Mom if we can invite John and Alex for Christmas,” Eliza said to Angelica as they sat on the floor in Angelica’s dorm room, books and papers scattered around.

“Are you nuts?” Angelica asked. “I mean, why?”

“I just think it would be nice. Neither of them has any family, or at least any family they’re in contact with. I asked Alex what he was doing for Christmas and he just said he wasn’t going to bother with it. That’s so sad!”

“So you have to fix it? Come on, Eliza, will you really enjoy Christmas with Alex making heart eyes at John every time he looks at him?”

Eliza looked Angelica in the eye. “I have to get used to it. And the thing is, Ange, I really like both of them. I want to stay friends with them, no matter what.”

Angelica muttered something about rubbing salt in a wound, but added, “Go ahead, then. You know Mom and Dad will say yes. They love having a house full of people for the holidays.”

Angelica was right. The Schuylers would be delighted to include their daughters’ friends in their Christmas celebration. It was Alex and John that needed convincing.

“Um, yeah, thanks a lot and all,” Alex said when she asked him in the library. He pushed his hair off his forehead nervously. “Yeah, I’ll get back to you.”

John, invited separately while they were at Betsy’s, was just silent, staring down at his coffee.

Eliza gave him a few minutes, then tried again. “It will all be very casual. We don’t do formal dinners or anything. My parents are used to our friends being in and out all the time, so you can just relax.”

John finally looked up and nodded. “It’s really nice of you to ask.”

“You and Alex both,” she repeated, in case it hadn’t registered the first time. “I know you don’t have any family around here, and, really, it’s more fun at our house than staying here by yourselves.”

“We went to Herc’s for Thanksgiving,” John said irrelevantly.

“They have Christmas at his uncle’s or something, though, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” John responded, looking a little disappointed that she knew that. He drank some of his coffee. “Can I get back to you in a day or two?”

“Sure,” Eliza agreed, trying not to be irritated. She had invited him to a fun family holiday, yet both he and Alex had reacted as if she was demanding that they clean the garage. She resolved not to press them. If they accepted, fine; if not, oh, well.

* * * * *

“So what do you think about going up to Albany for Christmas?” Alex asked John. They were in John’s apartment so John could work on his portfolio while Alex studied. At least that had been the plan. So far, they had made popcorn and watched _Remember the Titans._ John had moved to the table to work on some sketches, but Alex was still on the couch, licking his finger and trying to get the last few particles of salt and butter out of the popcorn bowl.

“I don’t know,” John said, “I mean, it’s nice of them to ask, but I just don’t think it’s a very good idea.”

“Why not?” Alex wrinkled his nose in disappointment and stared into the bowl. “There’s no more butter,” he commented sadly.

John laughed. “You can just melt a stick of butter and eat it if you want,” he suggested.

Alex appeared to consider it, then shook his head. “So why do you think it might be a bad idea to go to the Schuylers’?”

“Seriously, Alex? Have you met me? You know what a mess I am. I barely hold myself together around you. Imagine what it might be like around strangers.”

“You’re not that much of a mess, really.” Alex got up and put the bowl on the counter. He crossed to the table and stood behind John, putting his arms around him. “Anyway, I’d be there if you got upset about anything. The Schuylers are probably nice people.”

“Yeah, probably.” John leaned back, letting himself feel comfortable and smiling when Alex kissed him on the forehead. “Do you want to go?”

“That’s the thing,” Alex responded. “I’m not sure either.”

“Why?’

Alex sat down on the other side of the table. “Well, a couple of things. First, I don’t actually know how to act around people – you know, good manners and being polite and all.”

“Yeah, I may have noticed. I could help you with that if you want. My father may be a son of a bitch, but he taught me which fork to use.”

“Okay,” Alex said, blinking. John almost never mentioned his father. “That would be good. I should probably learn that stuff anyway.”

John smiled at him affectionately. “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think I’m ready for a polite and tactful Alex Hamilton. We could probably get you to the point where you don’t horrify the Schuylers, though. So you think we should go? You keep an eye on me for signs of rising panic, and I make sure you don’t eat your dessert with a soup spoon?”

Alex shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Well, there’s another thing.”

“What?”

“We should bring Christmas presents, right?”

“Yeah, it would be polite to bring presents since they’ve invited us, but I’m sure they wouldn’t expect anything elaborate.”

“There’s more of that ‘polite’ thing you’re going to teach me about.” Alex was biting his lip. “So what do you think would qualify as ‘not elaborate’?”

John shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe something like a nice Christmas ornament? I mean, we don’t know them, so it would have to be pretty generic.”

“We know Angelica and Eliza.”

“And they’ve got another sister, right?”

“Yeah, Peggy. Would we have to get her something too?”

John frowned at him across the table. “Yes, we would, but what’s this really about?”

“You want the short answer?”

“If that’s possible.”

“Money.”

“Ah, of course. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Don’t worry about it. I’ve got money.”

“I know you’ve got money, John,” Alex responded, irritated, “but I don’t.”

“It’s okay,” John told him. “I can pay for a few Christmas presents. No big deal.”

“But then the presents are from you, not me.”

“Come on, Alex, the presents can be from both of us.”

“No,” Alex said stubbornly.

John ran his hands through his hair and then locked them behind his head. He gazed at Alex sitting across from him, arms folded across his chest, dark eyes guarded. “Honest to God, I have never met anybody like you.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Well, for one thing, most people don’t refuse to take my money.” The bitterness made his voice rough. He reached across the table. “Look, I have way more money than I need. It’s a trust fund my grandfather left me. It pays for school and this apartment and everything else, but I never earned a penny of it, and I’m pretty sure I don’t deserve it. I know you don’t have much money, and I’d like to make your life a little easier. Is that wrong?”

“You don’t have to take care of me,” Alex said.

“I don’t see why not, you’ve been taking care of me since the night I had a meltdown over some spilled soda. You’re doing a hell of a job, by the way.”

Alex’s mouth twitched as if he were trying not to smile. “That’s different.”

“What does that even mean? You go everywhere with me and reassure me if anything makes me anxious. You sit here for hours on end just to make me feel better. You sleep with me when I ask you to, and you’re still not pressuring me to have sex.”

“I told you …” Alex began.

John waved his hand to cut him off. “I know. But you don’t understand how unusual that is.” He got up and walked over to the kitchen counter. “Do you want some coffee?”

“Sure.”

When the coffee was ready, John carried it into the living room and Alex followed him. Alex sat on the couch and John lay down, his head in Alex’s lap. Alex looked down at him, smiling a bit, and then began playing with John’s hair. His curls were soft and shiny, and Alex liked to wind them around his fingers. John lay quietly, pensive, still not used to gentle touches.

Finally, he said, “I’m going to tell you some things.”

“Okay. Whatever you want.”

“Just a couple of things,” John went on, “not my whole life history. I don’t like to talk about it.”

“I know, _querido._ ”

“My mother died right after my baby sister was born, around two years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex said, but John cut him off.

“It’s not like when you lost your mother,” he said. “I barely knew my mom. I told you it was Ana and Manuel who raised us. When I was little my parents traveled a lot, went on vacations, that sort of thing. Then when I got older, they stayed home more, but my mom was always tired, always lying down or taking naps.” He paused and took a breath, while Alex continued to pet his hair. “I think she was probably addicted to pain medication.”

Alex’s hand was still for a moment. “My God, that’s terrible.”

John turned a little on his side, his back up against the cushions of the couch, his head nestling closer in Alex’s lap. “Yeah, it probably was, but I can’t feel that because I never even knew her. I think she probably died of an overdose. Nobody ever told me.”

“John, that’s not – that’s cruel.”

“Yeah, well, that’s my dad. Like I said, he's a son of a bitch.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that. That’s enough. Anyway, when I was sixteen, I got out of there and went to St. Benedict’s Prep.”

“Catholic school boy, huh?”

John smiled. “Yeah, you like that?”

“I like you,” Alex said, leaning down to kiss him.

“After two years at St. Benedict’s, I came here. I haven’t been home or had any contact with my family in that time. I don’t expect to have any contact with them at least until my brothers and sisters are old enough to decide for themselves if they want to see me.”

“How old are they?”

“Marcy’s eleven. She’s the oldest. Harry’s eight, James is five, and the baby, Mary Eleanor, is two.”

“You miss them,” Alex said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah.”

“You couldn’t go for a visit?”

“No. There are reasons – let’s just say an agreement was made.”

“I don’t understand,” Alex said.

“I know. I’m not going to talk about it anymore, though, so please just believe what I say.”

“I won’t push you, but are you sure you won’t feel better if you talk it out.”

“Pretty sure – and anyway, I just can’t. Maybe someday, or maybe not.” John sat up, but snuggled in as close to Alex as he could get. He kissed Alex’s neck and sighed. “You don’t scare me,” he said softly.

Alex snickered. “I should hope not.”

“I wasn’t joking. I’ve been scared of a lot of people in my life, but not you.”

Alex put his arm around John and held onto him. “I don’t want you to ever be scared.”

John huffed out a breath. “Yeah, that’s pretty unrealistic. My goal for now is not letting anybody know I’m scared.”

“ _Mi amor_ , it’s okay to tell me if you’re scared.”

“Maybe. At least I know you won’t tell me you’re disappointed in me or make fun of me.”

“Jesus, John, what kind of person does that?”

John’s head rested on Alex’s shoulder as he stared across the room. “Just some people,” he murmured. “Anyway, I want to be done with this now.”

“Okay.”

“I want to get back to the financial thing.”

“Oh, shit, do we have to?” He nuzzled John’s neck and kissed him. “I was just getting all comfortable.”

John kissed him back, but then stopped and said, “Don’t distract me.”

“Fine, whatever. Make your point, counselor.”

John hesitated, gathering his thoughts. He took Alex’s hand and laced their fingers together. “Money isn’t just payment for services rendered.”

“What?”

“We tend to think of money in terms of earnings or salaries, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“That’s only true sometimes, though. Like the money I get, it’s not payment for work.”

“You mean because you inherited it?” Alex had no point of reference for inherited wealth. He had never had more than barely enough to survive on. He’d spent the summer before his scholarship kicked in washing pans in a bakery and eating ramen noodles. Almost all his clothes came from Goodwill.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I see what you mean, but most people don’t inherit money. Most people earn their money at a job.”

“Exactly, but what I’m saying is that’s not always the case. If I want to share my inheritance with you, it doesn’t have to mean I’m paying you for – um, goods or services.”

Alex grinned. “I see you took at least one econ class.”

John grinned back. “Yeah, but I hated it. Anyway, to get back to the very beginning of this, if _we_ use _our_ money to buy Christmas presents, then the presents are from both of us.”

“How does this get to be _our_ money?”

John’s face became serious. “May I share what I have with you?” he asked.

“Dammit, John, why do you put it like that?”

“It’s what I mean.”

Alex shook his head. “You trying to destroy capitalism single-handedly or something?”

“I don’t even know what that means because I hated economics and never paid attention. Can we just go shopping?”

* * * * *

Alex liked Dr. Wilson’s class on Constitutional principles. He loved class discussions, which he usually dominated, and so far, had gotten an A on every assignment and test. He was confident that he’d ace the final. He was a little surprised, then, when Dr. Wilson asked to see him in his office after class.

“Everything okay with my work?” he asked a little anxiously when he arrived in the tiny, cluttered room lined with bookshelves.

Dr. Wilson gave him an amused look over the top of his glasses. “You have to ask?”

Alex shrugged. “No, not really, but I wanted to be polite.”

His professor laughed. “That’s not something you usually seem to worry about.”

“I’m working on it,” Alex told him a little defensively.

“Well, anyway, your work is excellent, as you know,” Dr. Wilson went on. “Have a seat,” he added, waving in the direction of a chair.

Alex sat down on the edge of the chair, trying not to look nervous. Dr. Wilson took his seat at the desk.

“I got a call from Zain Akhdir’s office yesterday,” he began.

Alex interrupted him immediately. “Vice-President Akhdir?” he asked, eyes wide.

Dr. Wilson nodded. “We’re old friends. I was teaching Constitutional law at Penn when he first left the Army and got involved in politics. He used to ask my opinion on political concerns from a Constitutional point of view, and we got to know each other quite well.” He paused and fixed his eyes on a point over Alex’s head. “I’m not happy to see him and President Washington leave the government and be replaced by Blodman and King.”

“Nobody is,” Alex said.

“Actually, several million people are, so I suppose we have to live with it. At any rate, I don’t know if you are aware of it, but the political science department here at the university has an internship program with both the White House and Congress. Usually internships are served over the summer, but the Vice-President has requested that we send him someone for the four weeks of intersession.” Intersession was the period between the fall semester and the spring semester, essentially most of the month of January. The university offered some supplementary classes and programs, but most students just used it as vacation time. Dr. Wilson studied Alex’s expression. “Did you already make plans for intersession?” he asked.

“No,” Alex responded, his voice shaky. “No, sir. No plans.”

“The intersession internships are usually four weeks, but this year they’ll be shortened because the new President will be sworn in on the twentieth. Still, you would have nearly three weeks if you’d be interested. Would you accept an internship with the Vice-President?”

Alex could feel his heart pounding so hard that he was sure Dr. Wilson must be able to hear it. “Yes, yes, of course,” he babbled. “Oh, my God, of course. I can’t believe you’re asking me. This is crazy. What do I have to do? Is there an application? How do I get to the Capital? I’ll need a suit and tie, won’t I? I’ve got some ties, but … the White House? Really?”

Dr. Wilson chuckled. “Take a breath, Alex. We don’t usually recommend freshmen for internships, but your work is so outstanding that the committee agreed that you were the best candidate. You may find that there are some upperclassmen who will resent you.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“No, I didn’t think you would. You’ll take the train to the Capital on January third. You’ll be staying in a dorm at St. Denis University. They don’t have intersession classes and they let the program use their facilities. You’ll be one of about a dozen interns from several universities, about half assigned to the White House and half to Congress. It’s a short session, but I know you will get as much out of it as possible.”

Alex nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Oh, and there’s a stipend. It’s not much, but you get a third of it before you go because you’ll need it for transportation and, as you mentioned, to buy some clothes. You’ll get another check halfway through, and then one at the end. You can eat all your meals free at St. Denis, but you you’ll have enough cash to have a meal or two off campus.”

Alex nodded again.

“Any questions?” Dr. Wilson asked.

Alex shook his head.

“Then I think we’ve accomplished what I thought was impossible.”

Alex just looked at him, frowning.

“We’ve rendered Alex Hamilton speechless.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We begin to see a little more about the sources of John's anxiety.  
> John and Alex will be spending Christmas with the Schuylers in Albany. What will that mean for Eliza -- and Angelica?  
> How will serving an internship with the Vice-President affect Alex? What new ideas or information will he bring back with him for the new semester?  
> The new President will be inaugurated in January. What kinds of changes will that bring?  
> Thanks again for the kudos and comments. Tell me if there's anything you'd like to see more -- or less -- of. Sometimes my readers give me great ideas.


	11. The Schuyler Sisters Are the Envy of All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is cold. John makes a major purchase. They meet Philip and Catherine Schuyler.

Alex had a knit hat pulled down over his ears and a scarf wound around his neck and chin so that the only part of his face that was visible was his eyes and nose. The collar of his coat was turned up and his gloved hands were shoved into his pockets. “I’m fucking freezing,” he complained.

Gil looked down at him. “I don’t see how that’s possible.”

“I hate winter,” Alex continued.

_“Ça se voit.”_

“Does it get this cold in France?”

“Sometimes.” Gil wasn’t all that interested in Alex’s rantings on the weather.

They finally arrived at Betsy’s and Alex opened the door gratefully. John, Herc, Angelica, and Eliza were at a table near the back.

“I’m going to die of hypothermia soon,” Alex announced dramatically.

Angelica barely looked at him. “Unlikely,” she said.

Herc snickered. “Sure you don’t need a couple more scarves?”

“It is twenty-five fucking degrees out there. It’s dangerous.”

John’s mouth twitched. “You just walked, what, three blocks from one heated building to another heated building? I think you’ll survive.”

“Nobody cares if I freeze to death,” Alex muttered, unwinding his scarf and taking off his coat to reveal a hoodie over a long-sleeved sweater. “I have Caribbean blood. My body can’t tolerate this.”

“Haven’t you lived in New York for the last five years or so?” Eliza asked, her eyebrow up. “I think your blood has probably adjusted by now.”

“Fine, don’t take me seriously. You’ll all be sorry when I’m in the hospital with pneumonia.”

“Actually, being cold does not cause pneumonia,” Gil said helpfully. “It is bacteria or a virus, depending on what kind of pneumonia.”

Alex huffed angrily, and John reminded him, “Listen to the pre-med guy.”

Luckily, Patty showed up with their order, and Alex gulped the hot coffee, clutching the mug to warm his hands.

“You guys are taking the train up on Thursday, right?” Angelica asked.

Alex nodded, but John said, “I might be getting a car before then.”

Angelica wasn’t surprised, since John had been talking about it for the last month. “Okay, but you’re still planning to arrive on Thursday?”

“Yeah, for sure. I’ll text you as soon as I know.”

“One of us will pick you up at the station if you take the train.”

“You don’t have to. We can get an Uber or something.”

“It’s fine. We live out in the country. Your Uber would get lost. Besides, it will give me a chance to get out of the house.”

“Why will you want to get out of the house?” Alex asked. He was still worried about spending a few days in the Schuyler home without committing some sort of social faux pas.

Angelica waved her hand vaguely. “Oh, you know, I love my family, but being around them twenty-four seven can make me crazy.” She suddenly realized that she was talking to someone who had no family and that her nonchalant dismissal of hers might be insensitive. “I mean, we’re all so busy getting ready for Christmas that I’ll need a break.”

Eliza caught her eye and came to her rescue. “What Angelica is trying to say is that she hates wrapping presents, so she’s looking for an excuse to go on a long drive and leave Peggy and me to do hers.”

Alex understood exactly what Eliza was doing and smiled at her. She really was one of the kindest people he knew.

“So what’s your sister Peggy like?” John asked, changing the subject. Shopping for gifts for Angelica and Eliza was pretty easy, because he knew them, but he had no idea what to get for Peggy.

“She’s fifteen, so … you know, kind of annoying,” Angelica said. “She’s cute, though, and funny.”

“She runs,” Eliza added.

“Runs?” Alex asked, puzzled.

“She’s on the track team at school. She’s pretty fast, so she’ll probably make varsity next year.”

“Oh, cool,” John responded, but that didn’t give him any Christmas gift ideas.

“It’s a shame you can’t stay longer than the four-day weekend,” Eliza said. “Then you’d have a chance to get to know her.”

They had to get back to the city in time for Alex to pick up his stipend check and shop before his internship started. John and Herc were going to help him pick out clothes suitable for government work because even Alex admitted that he had no fashion sense. Other than announcing his internship to his friends, he really hadn’t discussed it much with them. He was a little concerned that Angelica would resent his being chosen over her, even though she was a year ahead of him. He decided to face that now. Better to get it out of the way before he was a guest in her family home.

“Are you okay about the internship?” he asked her, keeping his voice down.

“You mean, do I wish they’d picked me? Yeah, I kind of do, but I understand why you’re the one they wanted to send. Anyway, I’ve already met General Akhdir, and I can talk to him about government another time if I want.”

“What? How have you met the Vice-President?”

Angelica shrugged, a little embarrassed. “My dad knows him. You know, my dad’s always worked in state government, and he actually knows a lot of people. Seriously, I think that’s one reason they chose you over me for this. They didn’t want it to look like it was going to someone because of their connections. I’m pretty sure Dad will be able to arrange an internship with Senator Clinton for me next summer.”

Alex blinked and started thinking about forks and table manners. “Wow,” he said, rather hollowly.

“I don’t talk a lot about who my father knows,” Angelica went on. “It’s sort of obnoxious, you know? Like TJ telling us he’s, what, eighteenth cousin or something to Peyton Randolph?”

That made Alex laugh. “Yeah, don’t take TJ as your role model.”

“What do you hear from TJ, by the way?” Eliza asked.

“Not much,” Alex said. “He’s fine. His mom’s fine. Everything’s fine. William and Mary is a great school.”

Eliza’s eyebrow went up. “You think we’ll ever know the whole story?”

Alex shrugged. “Who knows? Anyway, I’m not worrying about it.”

Patty came back to the table at that moment to see if anybody wanted anything else. “Betsy made some cranberry scones this morning,” she announced. “New recipe. She says you guys can beta them for half price if you want.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m in,” Herc declared immediately, and everyone else agreed. Betsy herself brought over the plate of scones fresh out of the oven.

“Hope you guys like them,” she said. “Patty and Mark gave them a thumbs up, but I like to have a larger sample group, you know.” She waited patiently as they helped themselves and tasted the scones.

“Definitely a yes from me,” Herc told her after one bite.

“Yep, me too,” John agreed, taking another one.

“They’re so good,” Eliza said, brushing crumbs off her sweater.

“We do not have these in France,” Gil commented. “What are the small red things?”

“Cranberries,” Betsy said, trying to hide her smile.

Gil looked enlightened. “Ah, it is the same thing that is in the gelatin-like condiment served at Thanksgiving.”

That was too much for Betsy, who started laughing out loud. “That’s not exactly how I would describe cranberry sauce, but yeah.”

Gil flushed, but smiled and nudged Alex, who had been too busy concentrating on his scone to pay attention. “Alex, you are supposed to help me with my English.”

“What did you say?” Alex asked.

“It is cranberry sauce, the gelatin thing? Why? It is not a sauce.”

Alex turned to Betsy with a confused look, and she explained.

“Oh, right,” he said to Gil. “We call it cranberry sauce, even though, as you say, it’s not actually a sauce.”

“Why?” Gil demanded. “Why does English always do this? I will never understand.”

“Aren’t there weird things like that in French?” John asked.

“No,” Gil responded with assurance. “French is very logical.”

Alex snorted. “I’m going to find you some things in French …”

Gil looked down at him. “A challenge?”

“Okay, yeah, challenge accepted.”

John face-palmed and started laughing. “Hey, Herc, you may have to referee again.”

Herc looked up from his third scone. “Arm-wrestling?”

“No,” Angelica told him drily, “a linguistic competition.”

“Oh, hell, no,” Herc said. “You’re going to have to get somebody else to handle that.”

“So all of you approve the new scone recipe?” Betsy asked, moving away from the language issue.

There was a chorus of assent, with Alex alone suggesting they might need more sugar.

Betsy shook her head. “You know I’m not trusting Alex on that,” she said with a smile. “Anyway, thanks, and thanks too for recommending this place to all your friends. The Yelp reviews, too. It all helps, and we’re doing well.”

“You deserve it, Betsy,” Eliza told her. “We love hanging out here.”

Betsy gave her a hug and went back to the kitchen, saying over her shoulder that there might be some brown sugar-pecan scones to sample in a few days.

“So are you ready to go shopping tomorrow?” John asked as he stood patiently watching Alex wrap his scarf around his neck and button his coat up to his chin after everybody else had left.

“Sure,” Alex responded, his voice a little muffled. “What time?”

“We’ve got an appointment at the Acura dealership at ten,” John grinned, “so we should get the Uber for nine thirty, right?”

“Seriously?” Alex asked, wide-eyed. “A dealership? Like, a new car?”

John laughed. “Come on,” he said, grabbing Alex’s arm. “Let me get you back to the dorm before you get frostbite.”

* * * * *

Alex had never owned a car, let alone a new car. He’d never even known anybody who owned a new car. He sat in the passenger seat of John’s new Acura half afraid to move for fear of breaking something.

“So it’s pretty cool, right?” John asked, casually turning onto the highway.

“Mm-hm,” Alex agreed, staring straight ahead. He sniffed loudly.

“That’s the new car smell,” John told him.

“Volatile organic compounds,” Alex muttered. “Possibly carcinogenic.”

John laughed. “Oh, shut up. And will you for the love of God, relax? You look like you’re expecting me to crash into a parked car at any minute. I’ve been driving since I was fifteen.”

 _“Fifteen?”_ Alex yelped. “What the hell is the matter with South Carolina?”

“A lot of things,” John told him, “but the law’s the law, and I got my driver’s license as early as I could.” He signaled and turned into the mall parking lot, Alex looking nervously for oncoming vehicles.

“How old were you when you learned to drive?” John asked as they got out of the car.

Alex looked down and mumbled something, and John stopped in his tracks and looked at him. “You don’t know how to drive, do you?”

“No.” Alex kept his eyes on the surface of the parking lot.

He looked so sad that John wanted to kiss him. “We can fix that,” he said instead.

Alex looked up. “What do you mean?”

“I can teach you to drive,” John told him cheerfully, “or get you driving lessons, or … I don’t know, but we’ll work it out.”

“Really?”

“Of course really. I mean, why not?”

Alex started to smile. “You’re going to let me drive your new car?”

John smiled back. “Why not?”

* * * * *

The big brick house was set on a low rise, not exactly a hill, but enough of an incline to make it visible from a way down the road. There were a couple of oak trees in front of it, one on either side of the walk. A long driveway curved around to the right. Behind the house, the ground was lower, the lawn sloping to a thickly wooded area. In the distance, it looked like there was a valley, and then another, higher hill, but the trees blocked most of it from view.

Alex stared at the house, wondering how many acres the Schuylers actually owned and trying to figure out what he was doing here. “Holy shit,” he said.

John looked at it dispassionately. “Yeah, it’s nice.”

“Nice? How about gorgeous? Or magnificent?”

“I think magnificent might be over the top.”

“You’re probably used to places like this, right?” Alex asked, his feelings of inadequacy flooding in.

John set his jaw, and Alex realized that John wasn’t any more relaxed than he was. “Yeah, I’ve seen some nice houses,” he muttered through his teeth.

Alex reached out and put his hand over John’s. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m an idiot.”

John shook his head. “I’ll be okay.”

Alex knew that was a phrase John used as camouflage. _I’ll be okay. I’ll be fine._

“Don’t lie to me, _querido_ ,” Alex reminded him.

John leaned in for a quick kiss. “I’ll let you know if it starts to get bad.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

By the time they got the suitcases and bags from the trunk, Angelica and Eliza were coming out the front door, followed by a younger girl with long dark curls like Angelica’s.

“You must be Peggy,” Alex said, holding out his hand.

“Yep, that’s me,” she responded, ignoring his hand and giving him a hug. She looked both him and John over. “You’re Alex,” she announced, “because John’s the one with the pretty hair.”

John blushed, and Angelica said, “Peggy, please shut up,” but they all laughed.

Catherine Schuyler met them in the front hall and there were quick introductions and lots of smiles.

“Lunch will be ready in about half an hour,” Catherine told them, “so the girls will show you where your room is, and you can take your things up.”

John grabbed the suitcase, and Alex took the duffel bag, but Peggy was too fast for them and snatched the big shopping bag full of wrapped boxes. “Ooh, what’s in here?” she wondered aloud, with a sidelong look at Alex. “Who can these be for?”

“Peggy, behave yourself!” Eliza said, but Peggy just giggled and ran up the stairs. A few minutes later she came into the guest room where Angelica and Eliza were pointing things out to Alex and John, and handed the shopping bag to John. “Nothing rattles,” she said in a disappointed voice.

“Good to know you didn’t break anything,” John told her coolly. She started to look upset, but then caught John’s eye and saw that he was laughing.

“I guess I’ll have to wait to see what’s in there,” she said.

John looked at Alex with a fake-shocked expression on his face. “Were we supposed to get something for her too?” he asked.

Peggy stood with her hands on her hips and glared at them. “You guys are going to gang up on me with Angelica and Eliza, aren’t you?”

“You know, they’re our friends, Peg,” Angelica reminded her.

Peggy made a face at her and ran downstairs.

“She went to tell Mom we’re picking on her because she’s the youngest,” Eliza sighed. “Fortunately, Mom’s immune to that by now.”

“She’s cute,” John said.

“Yeah, she is,” Eliza agreed, “and she’s really sweet, but she’s still young enough to want to show off a little.”

“It’s okay,” Alex said. “You know we wouldn’t take it seriously, right?”

Eliza smiled at him. “Of course.” She and Angelica went downstairs and John and Alex put their things away.

Alex shut the bedroom door quietly. “Twin beds,” he said with a look of disappointment.

John’s eyebrows went up. “You weren’t seriously thinking …?”

“No, don’t be an idiot. I just thought it would be nice to cuddle.”

John smiled. “We might still be able to manage. Anyway, we’re sharing a room, which is kind of nice.”

He pulled Alex toward him, and Alex slid his hands up into John’s curls, cradling his head as he leaned in to kiss him. John sighed, and wrapped his arms around Alex’s waist. His lips parted for Alex’s tongue, and then he pulled back. “We probably shouldn’t be late for lunch,” he pointed out.

“Right, right,” Alex agreed, his eyes a little unfocused. He stared at John for a few seconds. “God _damn,_ you are sexy,” he muttered, reluctantly dropping his hands. “Let’s go eat lunch.”

Lunch was casual, sandwiches and chips, followed by Christmas cookies that the girls had been baking since they got home.

“I hope you don’t mind basic meals for for the next couple of days,” Catherine told them. “We do Christmas dinner with all the trimmings, so today and tomorrow will just be things we can throw together fast.”

“Of course we don’t mind,” John told her with a smile. “We’re just happy to be here. It was so nice of you to invite us.”

 _I wish I could do that,_ Alex thought. _I wish I could respond easily and politely and be nice to people the way John can._

“On Christmas Eve, we have breakfast for dinner,” Peggy announced. “Scrambled eggs and bacon usually.”

“That sounds like fun,” Alex said, giving it his best try. It seemed to work. Peggy grinned at him.

“And then Christmas morning, we have this Dutch coffeecake that Mom’s grandmother used to make,” Eliza added. “It’s kind of like a fancy raisin bread.”

“Do you have turkey for Christmas dinner?” John asked.

“Oh, yes,” Angelica said. “Turkey and stuffing and mashed potatoes and – what’s that thing? The gelatin-like condiment?” She did her best to imitate Gil’s accent, and they all laughed, then had to explain the joke to Catherine and Peggy.

“Oh, don’t make fun of the poor boy,” Catherine admonished, even though she was smiling. “After all, he probably speaks better English that you do French.”

“For sure,” Angelica agreed.

“Alex actually speaks fluent French,” Eliza told her mother. “And he and John both speak Spanish.”

“Really?” Catherine looked at both of them with interest. “Did you learn it in school?”

Alex saw John’s jaw tighten and responded quickly. “We just both grew up around a lot of Spanish-speaking people, and I lived on Martinique for a quite a few years. But do you mind if I ask you about that coffeecake Eliza mentioned? Maybe we can take the recipe back with us for Betsy.”

Of course, then Catherine asked about Betsy, and the conversation turned to coffeecakes and scones and out of the corner of his eye, Alex saw John relax. Just keep them focused on anything but questions about the past, he told himself. He could do this for John.

Later, when Philip Schuyler came home, Alex was able to talk to him for a few minutes about the upcoming internship, while John helped bake another batch of cookies. They all enjoyed a dinner of macaroni and cheese, and then Peggy proposed a game of Scrabble.

Philip excused himself. “I have some work I want to finish before tomorrow,” he said, “plus, I have to tell you, my daughters cheat at Scrabble.”

Alex looked at Angelica across the table. “You can’t out-cheat me.”

“You’re on,” Angelica responded.

They played teams, John and Alex, Angelica and Eliza, and Catherine and Peggy. Catherine did her best to keep Peggy in line, but Peggy still tried to get away with made-up words.

“ _Wobner_ is not a word,” Eliza said.

“Yes, it is,” Peggy insisted.

“Fine, what does it mean?”

“A _wobner_ is a person who stares too much,” Peggy responded calmly.

Eliza thought about it. It was possible. The score was close and she didn’t want to lose five points if she challenged and was wrong. “What do you think?” she asked Angelica.

“I’m ninety-five percent sure she’s making it up,” Angelica said, “but …”

“I know.” Eliza looked back and forth between her sisters. “Okay, no challenge.”

The play moved on to John and Alex, and as soon as John had used the _b_ in _wobner_ to make the word _table_ , Peggy started laughing. “Ha! I made it up. Gotcha! Woot, woot!”

“Mom, how did you let her get away with that?” Angelica demanded.

Catherine smiled. “Strategic play, my dear. It’s perfectly legal in the rules.”

There was nothing to do but finish the game, and the final score gave the win to Angelica and Eliza, who didn’t hesitate to tell Peggy that her strategic play hadn’t helped her. Catherine reminded them that there was a lot to do the next day, and encouraged them to get a good night’s sleep, so John and Alex took the hint and went upstairs. Angelica gathered up the Scrabble tiles, and her mother took the game box from her. “They’re nice boys,” she said.

Angelica smiled. “Yeah, they are.”

“John is just adorable, and he really knows his way around the kitchen,” Catherine went on.

“Mm-hm,” Eliza nodded.

“He’s going to make some lucky girl a good husband,” Catherine added, mouthing the cliché without even thinking about it.

“No, you’re wrong about that,” Eliza said, her voice a little tight.

Catherine frowned and looked at her.

Angelica sighed. “Mom, I thought you knew. John and Alex are …”

“Oh,” Catherine said, enlightened. “Oh, of course, I should have …” She hesitated and looked again at her middle daughter, who was staring intently at the carpet. “Eliza?”

“I’m fine, Mom.”

“I’m an idiot,” Catherine admitted aloud.

“Really, Mom,” Peggy said, nibbling on a Christmas cookie, “even I knew they were gay.”

* * * * *

John stood at the window, looking out over the dark woods behind the house. “It must be pretty here when it snows,” he said.

“Probably,” Alex responded, “but I am not dreaming of a white Christmas.”

John turned around and smiled at him. “No, you wouldn’t be. You’re like a little tropical flower.”

“Stop,” Alex said, turning red.

John sat down next to him on the bed and put his arm around him. “It’s cute.”

Alex hid his face against John’s neck. “You think I’m cute?” he asked, his voice muffled.

“I think you’re adorable,” John told him, and kissed his hair. “It would be fun to play in the snow with you sometime, though.”

“No. That’s not going to happen.”

John gave a dramatic sigh. “I guess I can’t have everything.”

They were quiet for a minute, then Alex sat up and put his hand on John’s cheek. “I wish I could give you everything you wanted.”

John turned his head to kiss Alex’s hand. “Alex, you have no idea how much you give me. I saw what you did at lunch today, when Catherine was about to ask about where we grew up, where we went to school, all that. You just started talking about raisin bread, of all things, and she never got a chance to come back to it. I couldn’t have done that in a million years.”

“Not everybody’s grateful when I monopolize conversations,” Alex reminded him.

John put his arms around him and pulled him close. “Just – thank you.”

“I love when you hold me like this,” Alex murmured.

“Because it keeps you warm?”

A soft chuckle. “Yeah, that too.”

“You don’t want to sleep alone, do you?”

“You know I don’t. We can both fit.”

John smiled and ran his hand up Alex’s back under his sweatshirt. Alex shivered a little and snuggled closer. “You’re really going to sleep in those?” John asked. He was wearing flannel pajama pants and a tee shirt, but Alex had on heavy sweat pants and a sweatshirt.

Alex looked up at him from under his thick eyelashes. “Mm-hm. You don’t want your fragile tropical flower to get a chill, do you?”

John laughed and kissed him. “No, I don’t.” He got up and turned off the lights and came back to the bed to find Alex under the covers on the side against the wall. There was just enough light in the room to see contrast, and he stood looking down at Alex’s face, seeing the dark lines of his eyebrows and lashes.

Alex opened his arms. “Come to bed, _mi amor,_ ” he said softly.

John lay down, spooned against him, feeling more at peace than he had in years. He tucked his head into Alex’s shoulder, and Alex reached down to pull the comforter up. He carefully spread it over John, making sure that he was completely covered and tucked it in so no cold air could get to him. Then he gently began petting John’s hair, combing his fingers through the curls. John felt himself relax, felt the tension spool out of his shoulders, felt his breathing slow. “You take good care of me,” he murmured.

Alex lifted his hair and kissed the back of his neck. “Because I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have moved the Schuylers' home out of town. It's actually still in the city of Albany, and is more modest than the one I describe here. It is, however, known as the "Schuyler Mansion."  
> Philip Schuyler was involved in New York state politics for most of his life. The Senator Clinton that Angelica refers to is George Clinton, who was actually Governor of New York, but I changed his office for my own reasons.  
> The Schuyler family was of Dutch descent, so their Christmas breakfast is a traditional Dutch coffeecake called kerststol. It gives Alex something to talk about.  
> I realize that I've written a lot of words, but nothing very exciting is happening yet. Try to stay with me. There will be chaos and bloodshed eventually, as well as sex. Thanks to all of you who are reading this, and thank you for the kudos and comments. Talk to me!


	12. At a Revel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Alex celebrate Christmas with the Schuyler family. John receives unexpected validation and gains confidence. Herc and John take Alex shopping for clothes. John's changed attitude means there is a change in his relationship with Alex.

Alex felt John stiffen in his arms and was furious with himself. _Fuck,_ he thought, _why can’t I keep my mouth shut?_

“John?” he whispered, stroking his hair. He was afraid John would pretend to be asleep.

“Hm?” John responded, not sleepily.

“We okay?”

There was silence, and Alex lay still, his arms still around John, John’s head still against his shoulder.

John sighed, and turned so that he was facing Alex. “Your timing sucks,” he said wearily. It was too dark for Alex to see his face as anything other than a pattern of shadows.

“God, babe, I’m sorry, I just … goddammit, John, I meant it.”

“I know.”

Alex waited for a minute before he pleaded, “Talk to me, _querido._ ”

There was silence, and then, “The last time I heard those words was when my sister Marcy said them, nearly three years ago. It was the last time I saw her.” His voice was unemotional, tightly controlled.

Almost three years with nobody loving him. Almost three years of swearing to himself that he was done with that, that it wasn’t worth the inevitable pain, of knowing that, no matter what he pretended, he wasn’t strong enough to bear it.

He put his hand on Alex’s cheek, thumb by the corner of his mouth. He slid his forefinger over to trace Alex’s cheekbone, then moved his fingertips along his hairline. Alex needed a haircut, as usual, and John played for a minute with the shaggy strands over his ear. He could hear Alex breathing, and he knew how hard it was for him to stay silent. He brought his hand back to Alex’s face, and traced his mouth, trying to stay in control, to hold back the tears. Alex’s breath caught in a sob, and John was undone. He pushed himself up on his elbow and leaned over, pulling Alex as close to him as he could, bringing their mouths together. The kiss went on and on, while somewhere in the far reaches of John’s mind, the echo of a cold voice told him that he was worthless and useless and impossible to love. He couldn’t silence it completely, but the closer he embraced Alex, the less distinct it became. Alex held him, one hand tangled in John’s curls, the other on his waist, kissing him as if he would never stop. When John finally broke away, Alex gave a little murmur of protest, then he said it again. “I love you. I hope you love me, but whether you do or not, I love you.”

John’s mouth was so close to his that he felt Alex’s breath on his lips as he spoke. He swallowed with difficulty, and then he said, “I love you too,” and the tears came. He cried against Alex’s shoulder while Alex held him, stroking his hair and murmuring endearments to him. “Oh, my love, my beautiful boy, _mi amor, mi corazon,_ ” he whispered. “I love you, John. Sh, don’t cry, my love, it’s all right. I love you so much.”

“I’m scared,” John whispered, wiping his face on Alex’s sweatshirt.

“I know. I can’t – I can’t magically make everything about your life all better, but just stay with me, okay?”

John nodded against his shoulder and wiped his face again.

“You getting snot all over my perfectly good I-Heart-NY sweatshirt?”

“Yeah.”

Alex tightened his arms. “’S’okay. I love you more than New York.”

John turned a little so that he could look up at Alex’s face, even though he couldn’t see it clearly. “Wow,” he said. “That’s a lot.” He still felt shaky, felt a weight in the pit of his stomach that he had no idea how to dispel. He realized he was cold, and he tucked his hands inside the front of Alex’s sweatshirt. “I don’t know how to do this.”

Alex kissed his eyelids and his cheek and his neck. “Don’t worry,” he said softly. “I’ve got you.”

John finally fell asleep like that, his hands against Alex’s chest, his head with its soft curls just under Alex’s chin. Alex lay quietly, accepting the numbness in his arms as inevitable, wanting to hold John forever and protect him from all unhappiness. He knew that was impossible, but it wasn’t the impossibility of perfect happiness that kept him awake. It was John’s fragility and his own fear of failing. Alex knew himself well enough to know that maybe John shouldn’t trust him.

* * * * *

Christmas Eve day at the Schuyler home was noisy and busy. All three of the girls ran up and down the stairs on mysterious errands, giggling to one another as they did it. Catherine spent the day in the kitchen, preparing food for Christmas Day. Early in the afternoon, Philip said he had to go into town but couldn’t reveal why. Peggy begged to go along, so he told her to hurry, and as she ran upstairs to get her shoes, Angelica yelled after her, “I guess he’s not shopping for your present.”

“My shopping’s done,” her father told her.

“Why are you going into town then?” Eliza asked. “It’ll be a madhouse.”

“I’m helping your mother.”

Eliza raised her eyebrow, but didn’t pursue the subject, and Philip and Peggy left in the dark blue Chevy.

Alex felt fairly useless. Everybody was too busy to spend time with him, and John had been unusually quiet since they got up. He didn’t think John was mad at him, just that he had a lot to process. He wasn’t sure if he should push him to talk, but had decided not to, at least for now. This wasn’t the time or place for intimate conversation. As John had pointed out, his timing sucked.

John stood for a while in the dining room, looking out the window toward the woods. Eliza found him there and went to stand beside him.

He smiled at her. “It’s pretty out there,” he said.

“Yeah, it is. We spent a lot of time playing in those woods when we were kids.”

“Really? It looks like there aren’t even any paths into it.”

“There are, but you have to know where they are. We know all the places to hide. Don’t tell my mom, but we used to see if we could find our way around in the woods blindfolded.”

John looked surprised. “Wasn’t that kind of dangerous?”

“Yeah,” Eliza nodded. “There’s kind of a cliff a ways back, and I went over it one day. I was ten.”

“Were you okay?”

“I broke my wrist. Mom and Dad still don’t know exactly how it happened. Angelica and Peggy and I swore ourselves to secrecy about the blindfolds. We never used them again after that.”

John stared at her for a minute. “What would have happened if they had found out?”

Eliza shrugged. “Well, they would have been furious, of course, and we would have gotten the lecture. You know, ‘You are all smart girls, why would you do this? Didn’t you think about how dangerous it might be? And now look, Eliza got hurt.’ I would have been Exhibit A as evidence that kids playing dumb games get hurt.” She smiled up at him. “We learned our lesson.”

John still had that intense look on his face. “And your parents just would have talked to you?”

“Well, yeah …” her voice trailed off, and her face changed. She put her hand on John’s arm. “Oh, God, John, have I made you think about something you’d rather not?”

He managed a smile. “It’s all right. I’m fine, really.”

Eliza stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, “You’re a good guy, John. Don’t ever forget that. Now I’m going to go finish wrapping Angelica’s gifts for her.”

“How’d she get you to do that?” John asked.

“She’s cleaning my room.”

John grinned. “Fair enough. You think maybe your mom could use some help in the kitchen?”

“Probably. None of us are very good at cooking.”

Eliza went back upstairs and John stepped tentatively into the kitchen. Catherine was stirring a large sauté pan of chopped onions and celery on the stove. The table and the counters were covered with an assortment of bowls, pans, and measuring cups. Catherine was looking a little frazzled.

“Can I help?” John asked.

She looked up and smiled. “Thanks, John, but I think I’ve got it.” She gave the vegetables in the sauté pan a stir. “This is for the stuffing, then I’m going to peel and slice the potatoes so they’ll be ready to cook tomorrow, and then I’ll do the pies.”

He took a couple of steps into the kitchen. “That sounds like a lot.”

She gave a small shrug. “It’s okay. I’m always crazy busy on Christmas Eve day.”

“I could do the pies if you want,” John offered diffidently.

“It’s really sweet of you, but I actually make the pies from scratch. I don’t have any frozen pie crusts or anything like that.”

John smiled. “I wouldn’t think of using frozen pie crust.”

She turned off the stove burner and looked at him directly. “I know you helped with the cookies yesterday, but pie can be a little more complicated. I usually make three different kinds.”

He nodded. “You always want an assortment for a holiday dinner. I usually make pumpkin, apple, and pecan.”

Catherine was still staring at him. “Philip doesn’t like pecans, so I do pumpkin, apple, and cherry.”

“What kind of pie cherries do you have?”

“Montmorency. I froze them last summer”

John’s smile grew broader. “Oh, they’re the best.”

Catherine started to laugh. “You actually know what they are, don’t you?”

“Sure. I kind of grew up in a kitchen. Why don’t you go ahead and finish the stuffing and then Alex and I can make the pies? You can get some rest.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Catherine sighed. “Does Alex bake too?”

John shook his head. “Not exactly, but I can probably get him to follow instructions.”

“Maybe he could peel the apples?” she suggested.

That made John laugh. “No, that’s one thing I’m not going to let him do.”

Peggy and Philip came home a few minutes later, so John coaxed Peggy into helping him and Alex. Peggy, fortunately, was an experienced apple peeler, so she did that job and went on to peel the potatoes as well, while John made the pie crusts and Alex obediently stirred the bowls of pie fillings. Catherine found to her astonishment that she had time to lie down for a well-deserved nap. She came downstairs at around five to make the Schuylers’ traditional breakfast-for-dinner Christmas Eve meal and entered the kitchen to see John cooking the bacon. Alex had the eggs beaten and ready to scramble, and Peggy had set the table.

“John made me do it,” Peggy complained.

“Good for John,” her mother told her emphatically. Peggy left with an aggrieved sniff just as Philip came in.

“Do I smell bacon?” he asked.

John gave him a grin over his shoulder. “Coming right up, sir,” he said.

“You don’t have to call me sir,” Philip told him.

“Sorry,” John responded. “Old Southern custom. I learned it growing up.”

“Like you learned cooking?” Catherine asked.

John shrugged, keeping his eyes on the pan of bacon. “Sort of.”

Alex looked over at John’s face. He was wearing the shuttered expression that he had when he was guarding his words carefully.

“John, I don’t know how to thank you for doing all this,” Catherine said. She took a few steps across the kitchen. “Come here and let me give you a hug.”

John looked embarrassed, but turned off the stove burner and let Catherine hug him. She kissed his cheek affectionately as he turned bright red, and then, her arm still around him, said to her husband, “If one of the girls doesn’t snap this boy up, I swear I may marry him myself.”

Alex gasped, and John’s face got even redder. He turned toward Alex, hoping he would say something, but Alex was silent for once.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Cath,” her husband said calmly. “He’s at least twenty years younger than you are.”

“Age is only a number,” Catherine laughed.

“Anyway, he’s gay,” Philip continued just as calmly.

“Well, damn, I guess that’s that then,” Catherine conceded with a shrug, pretending not to notice that John had suddenly turned to stone.

Philip grabbed his wife’s elbow and pulled her away, saying, “Come on, if the boys are nice enough to cook dinner for us, let’s get out of their way.”

As soon as they were out of the room, John grabbed the table for support and tried to breathe. Alex put his arm around him. “It’s okay, babe,” he said. “They don’t care.”

John kept his head down, as if waiting for the roof to fall in. Alex rubbed his back gently, and eventually John’s breathing steadied. “They really don’t care,” he finally said, marveling.

“Most people don’t,” Alex told him gently.

“I don’t – I guess it’s because I grew up with people – some people, anyway, who – who thought differently.”

“Yeah, there are people like that.”

“But not the Schuylers.” John looked up, and Alex saw that his eyes were bright with tears. “They like me, don’t they?” His voice was filled with astonishment.

Alex gave him a quick kiss. “ _Querido_ , everybody who meets you loves you. You are fucking irresistible.”

* * * * *

Christmas morning at the Schuylers’ house was a whirlwind of bright tissue paper, laughter, and lots of picture taking. Everybody was in their pajamas, and there was plenty of coffee and coffeecake to go around. Alex and John were touched to find that there were stockings for them as well as for the girls hanging from the mantel. Philip’s errand into town the day before had been to pick them up at the store. The Schuyler girls’ stockings were beautiful needlepoint ones that they had had their whole lives, all their names spelled out in full: _Angelica, Elizabeth, Margarita._ “My mother made them for the girls when they were babies,” Catherine explained. For John and Alex, they had chosen simpler ones, but they actually had their names on them, and the boys were as excited as little kids. They emptied their stockings first.

“What did Santa leave in your stockings?” Angelica asked, peering over Alex’s shoulder.

Alex had piled his stocking contents on the floor. “Look at this!” he said gleefully. “Pens! This cool mini-flashlight! A chocolate Santa, and a new toothbrush.”

John held up a box of colored pencils. “Drawing pencils, chocolate snowman, nail clippers, and a toothbrush.” He looked over at Eliza and Peggy, who were also holding up toothbrushes, and laughed. “I take it the toothbrushes are a tradition.”

“Every year,” Eliza told him with a smile. “We get candy and we get toothbrushes. Go figure.”

There were more presents under the tree, a warm wool scarf in a tartan plaid for Alex, and a large art portfolio for John. Alex was thankful that they – well, John, really – had shopped carefully for the Schuyler family. They’d gotten a handmade glass ornament for Philip and Catherine, a nice wallet for Angelica, a pretty enamel picture frame for Eliza, and a set of lavender-scented bath products for Peggy. John got his sketchbook and tried out his new pencils while Philip took pictures of all of them in pretty much every conceivable combination – each of the girls, then all three of them together, then Alex and John, then each of them alone, then all five of them, until Angelica was begging, “Please, Dad, stop! You must have a million pictures by now.”

“Oh, let him,” her mother said. “You all look so cute, and you’re growing up, so really, how many more years will you all be home for Christmas?”

“We’ll always come home for Christmas, Mom!” Peggy promised, but Catherine just smiled at her. Peggy was only fifteen, too young to understand how life can bring new people and new ties that change priorities and traditions. She looked down at her beautiful girls, sitting on the floor with their friends, admiring each other’s gifts, grateful for what they’d been given. It wouldn’t be too much longer before they’d have families of their own. _In ten years,_ she thought, _we may well be grandparents._ She leaned up against her husband, who was next to her on the couch. “Our girls are nice people,” she said to him softly. “We’ve done a good job. I’m proud of them.”

Philip put his arm around her and kissed her, and Peggy yelled, “Mom and Dad are getting amorous!”

“ _Amorous?_ ” Philip asked, laughing.

“Vocabulary word,” Peggy said proudly.

“What are you kids reading in tenth grade these days?” Alex asked in his best professor voice, and they all laughed again.

These people are fun, John thought wonderingly. Who knew that a Christmas could be like this, everyone relaxed and happy and enjoying themselves? In this house, it was okay for kids to tease their parents. In this house, everybody knew he was gay, and nobody cared. In this house, he could almost feel safe.

* * * * *

The day after they got back to the city, they had arranged to meet Herc so that Alex could get the clothes he needed for his internship. Alex had deposited his first stipend check and felt both excited and anxious at the amount of money he had to spend on a new wardrobe. He was bouncing on his toes by the time he met John and Herc at the bus stop.

“We’re going downtown,” Herc said firmly.

Alex just nodded. He sat in silence for most of the bus ride while John and Herc discussed his fashion needs.

“We have to keep it conservative,” John said.

“Definitely,” Herc agreed. “One navy, one charcoal gray?”

“I think so. Shirts, ties, shoes and socks.”

“All white shirts?”

“Yeah, this is definitely not the time to make an original fashion statement.”

Herc laughed at that, and Alex asked, “What’s so funny?”

“You making a fashion statement.”

Alex wasn’t sure whether to be offended by that or not, so he just sat chewing his lip until they got to the department store Herc had decided on.

“Okay,” Herc said before they went in. “We are your personal stylists. We are going to tell you what to wear. Please don’t waste time arguing with us.”

“What if I don’t like what you guys pick out?”

John looked at him pityingly. “You’re going to have to wear it anyway. But don’t worry, you’ll look good, even if you don’t think so.”

“I don’t think …” Alex began, but Herc grabbed his arm and dragged him ruthlessly into the store.

Two hours later, Alex had two new suits, one dark navy blue and one charcoal gray. He also owned five crisp white shirts, a half dozen ties, a pair of black dress shoes and a dozen pairs of socks in navy, charcoal gray, and black. John had also decided that he needed new underwear, so that was added to the total despite Alex’s objections. “For God’s sake, John,” he had protested loudly, “I’m not going to be walking around the White House in my boxers.”

A couple of passers-by had turned startled faces to him at that point, so he lowered his voice. “Seriously,” he went on, “I can’t spend all my money on clothes. I’ll need some for when I get to the Capital.”

“It’s fine, Alex,” John said.

“It’s not fine,” Alex argued, while Herc stepped away to look at what seemed to be some very interesting socks.

“Alex,” John said again, “just shut up.”

“John, I’m not kidding. How much is all this adding up to?”

John sighed and put his hand gently on Alex’s arm. He leaned in close. “I need you to listen to me and not yell,” he said quietly. “Do you promise not to yell?”

“Why would I yell?” Alex asked suspiciously.

John rolled his eyes. “Sometimes you yell. Will you listen to me?”

“Okay,” Alex agreed, huffing a little.

John leaned a little closer, and Herc, sneaking a look from the sock counter, did his best to hide a smile.

“I’m buying some of this stuff,” John whispered.

“What?” Alex screeched. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

John took a step back and shook his head.

“Told you,” Herc commented over his shoulder from the sock counter.

“Alex, you promised not to yell,” John reminded him.

“That’s before I knew what you were going to tell me.”

“That’s the whole point of getting you to promise before I told you, you idiot.”

“I am not an idiot.”

Herc stepped in. “Need a referee?” he asked.

“No,” Alex snapped.

“Yeah,” John said.

“Two to one, so I’m deciding it,” Herc announced. “Alex, don’t be stupid. John’s your boyfriend and he wants to help you out here. He’s got the money. It’s not like he’s going to go hungry if he buys you socks. Just shut up and say thank you for once in your life.”

Alex glared at Herc and chewed on his lip for a minute, then he turned to John. “Thank you,” he said in a small voice, looking down at his shoes.

He looked so cute that John wanted to kiss him right there, but he restrained himself. “You’re welcome,” he responded politely.

“I’m not an idiot,” Alex reminded him.

“No, you’re not. You’re Alex Hamilton, certified genius. Come on, let’s get some pizza.”

They dragged all the bags with them to the pizza place, and then onto the bus. Herc stayed on the bus to go home, and John helped Alex carry all the new clothes to his dorm and put them away. Alex stood in front of the closet staring at the row of neatly hung shirts.

“I’m not used to nice stuff,” he admitted, embarrassed.

John pulled him in for the hug and kiss he’d been wanting to give him all day. “I know. Just remember though – sometimes, if we’re not used to something, we start to feel like we don’t deserve it. That’s not true.”

Alex looked up at him. “Are you talking about clothes?”

“Clothes, and maybe some other things.”

Alex kissed him gently. “You want some coffee?”

“Actually, do you have any tea?”

“There might be some that TJ left. Does tea get stale?”

John shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out.”

The tea tasted fine, and they settled in on the couch with a blanket and reruns of _Glee_ on Netflix.

“This show is so gay,” John commented.

“It is very gay,” Alex agreed. “You have to admit, though, that Jesse St. James is cute.”

“Hot as fuck, actually.”

Alex looked at him from under his lashes. “Not hotter than me, though, right?”

“Let me think,” John began, and Alex punched him in his ribs.

“Ow!” John yelled, but he was laughing, and he pulled Alex to him. “Nobody in the world is hotter than you,” he said, his mouth close to Alex’s.

Alex pulled John down on top of him, his fingers tangling in John’s curls, and John moved in to kiss him, one hand soft on Alex’s cheek, and the other running down his side to his hip, to the waistband of his jeans. Alex’s breath caught, and he pressed his hips up. “Any time you’re ready, _querido_ ,” he whispered. John got his hand in between them and fumbled at the snap of Alex’s jeans.

“Yeah,” he muttered, feeling like he was about to burst into flames.

“You sure?”

“God, yeah.”

“Maybe the bed?” Alex suggested after a few more minutes.

John let out a sound that might have been a laugh and sat up. “Probably a good idea.”

“You okay?” Alex asked, wanting to be sure.

John nodded slowly and turned to face Alex, his eyes like deep water. “I love you,” he said.

Alex smiled. “I love you too.”

John’s face was soft. “I like saying it. I like to hear you say it.”

Alex took his hand, and they walked into the bedroom. John stood there for a minute and looked down, his jaw tight. “I guess it’s always awkward the first time, right?” He sat down on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped.

Alex crawled up behind him and rubbed his shoulders. He could feel the tension. “Have you done this before?” he asked softly.

John stared straight ahead. “Yeah,” he said flatly. “It was practically a required subject at my boarding school.”

Alex was glad John couldn’t see his face as he took that information in. “Oh, shit, John, I had no idea …”

John waved his hand dismissively. “No, it’s okay. Past is past, right?”

Alex reached around him, and pulled his shirt over his head. He kept massaging his shoulders, and he leaned in to kiss John’s neck gently. He felt John’s breath slow, and he kept kissing him, trailing soft kisses over his shoulder. He stopped for a second to yank his own shirt off, and then pressed himself against John, front to back, skin to skin. John leaned back into him, and Alex wrapped his arms around him, rubbing against him, just feeling him close like this. John leaned his head back on Alex’s shoulder, his beautiful mouth now in reach, and Alex began kissing him, softly at first, but then not softly, and he’d never wanted anything more than he wanted John right now.

“ _Escúchame , mi amor,_” Alex whispered. “If there’s something you don’t want to do, just tell me …”

John turned all the way to look directly at him, and Alex saw the sadness in his eyes.

“There’s nothing sexual that I haven’t done before,” John said, working hard to keep his voice controlled. “It’s not sex that scares me, Alex. It’s love. I don’t know what to do with love.”

Alex took John’s face in his hands and kissed him very gently. “I’ll show you,” he said. “Let me show you.”

He pulled John down onto the bed, still kissing him, unsnapped his jeans and got them off, then took his own off, and they were both naked, both trying to put their hands on every square inch of skin at once, touching and caressing and fumbling a little, finding their way to each other.

Alex was overwhelmed by how beautiful John’s body was. He traced the lines of his abs with his fingers, and then outlined the deep V of his obliques into his groin. John gasped as Alex dragged his fingertips across his hip to the base of his cock, and then as Alex began to stroke it lightly, he threw his head back, his eyes unfocused, his breath fast. “I don’t – I can’t,” he panted and Alex kissed him, keeping his hand where it was.

“’S’okay, my love,” he murmured. “Everything’s okay. I’ve got you. I love you.”

He turned and moved down so that he could taste him, and as soon as his mouth was on him, John’s hips began to jerk unevenly.

Alex paused long enough to look up at him and say, “Anything you want, my beautiful boy, anytime you want it,” and John began to thrust into his mouth, gasping and half crying, and he came so fast that Alex wasn’t quite ready, and he swiped at his mouth and face with the back of his hand.

John fell back, grabbing for Alex, and then holding him as tight as he could, burying his face in Alex’s neck. He was still coming down, shaking, sobbing, and he wrapped his legs around Alex’s as if to anchor himself.

Alex gave him time, then he asked softly, “You okay?”

“Okay?” John made a sound that could have been a laugh. “Oh, God, yeah, I’m okay. I didn’t – I’m sorry, it’s – I’m only thinking about myself here …”

“Sh, relax. We’ve got all day.”

They lay tangled together until John’s breathing slowed, and he pulled Alex in for a kiss. “I like all day,” he murmured. Alex could feel him smiling as they kissed again.

John’s kisses were soft, and he trailed them down Alex’s chest to his stomach, licking lightly. He flicked his tongue into Alex’s navel, and smiled when Alex shivered. He did it again, and then got himself between Alex’s legs and licked a long, steady stroke from the base of his cock to the tip, then swirled his tongue around it. Alex let out a noise that made John smile with satisfaction. “Tell me what you like, _mi amor_ ,” he murmured, licking again. “Tell me what you want.”

“That’s good, what you’re doing, it’s good,” Alex babbled. “I like it. I like you. I love you.” And then, as John took him in his mouth, “Ah, shit, John, yeah.”

Alex didn’t say anything after that, but his moans and gasps as John held his hips down and moved rhythmically on him told John everything he needed to know. He came hard into John’s mouth, the pressure from John’s lips and tongue extending his orgasm until everything whited out and he fell back, panting and sweating. “Jesus fuck, John,” he managed to say. “My God.”

John gathered him into his arms and kissed his hair. “I love you,” he whispered, kissing his cheek and his forehead and his shaggy hair. He lay back, his head on the pillow next to Alex’s.

“I’m in love,” he said, smiling. “I’m in love with Alexander Hamilton, who is really hot, and smart, and has beautiful brown eyes with the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen.”

“Keep going,” Alex told him, grinning.

“He’s very sexy.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Has a great vocabulary …”

“ _Vocabulary?_ Really?”

John snickered. “Trying to find a nice way to say that you never shut up.”

Alex laughed and tried to tickle him in revenge, and just ended up with John back in his arms. “God, I love you,” he said, his head against John’s shoulder and his hand in his curls. “I love you so much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In reality, the Schuylers had fifteen children, not three, although the three that we refer to as the Schuyler sisters were the three oldest. The eighteenth century being what it was, seven of those fifteen died before they were two years old. Even so, I decided to disappear four of the eight children who lived to adulthood for the purposes of this story. As Lin said to someone who questioned his decision not to include all of the Hamilton children in his musical, "If you want a show with seven kids, go see 'Sound of Music'." If you think the math isn't adding up here, you're right. Be patient.  
> I hope that you like the progress in Alex and John's relationship. In the next chapter, Alex will be off to the White House. Let me know what you like (or don't like, really). The whole story isn't written yet, and sometimes my readers have great ideas.


	13. Top-Notch Brain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex gets an early birthday present. He makes new friends and meets up with an old acquaintance in the Capital. The Vice-President predicts the future. Alex has to talk about his past.

The day before Alex had to leave for his internship, John brought his luggage over to Alex’s dorm. Alex had nothing bigger than a backpack.

“Before we get started, you need to get a haircut,” John said.

Alex didn’t really think it was necessary. “It’s not that long.”

“Right, it’s not,” John agreed, “but it’s too long for government work.”

“It’s fine,” Alex insisted.

John sighed. “Alex, don’t make me fight you.”

“Arm wrestle?” Alex suggested hopefully.

“Oh, hell, no,” John said, hooking his foot behind Alex’s knees and taking him down. He prevented Alex’s face from hitting the floor by grabbing his arm and twisting it behind him, pulling his shoulders up. They finished with John’s knee on Alex’s back, and Alex, a little dazed, gasping for breath. John leaned forward and whispered, “Get the fucking haircut.”

“Yeah, okay,” Alex nodded. “Jesus, John, don’t ever do that again.”

John helped him up, laughing. “Did I scare you?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

John pulled him in and kissed him. “I’d never hurt you, babe.”

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” Alex asked, still unsettled.

“Boarding school,” John replied briefly. “Get your jacket.”

When they came back from the barber’s, Alec checked himself out in the mirror. “It looks good, doesn’t it?” He craned his neck so he could see his hair from a different angle. “Do I look like a serious politician?”

“Absolutely,” John told him. “In fact, people are probably going to mistake you for President Washington.”

“Washington’s six-two,” Alex pointed out. “Are you by any chance making fun of me?”

“Possibly,” John grinned. “Come on, stop admiring yourself so we can get your stuff packed.” He threw the larger suitcase up onto the bed and turned around to pick up the smaller one.

Alex opened the large suitcase. “Hey,” he said, “there’s something in here.”

“Really?” John asked, clearly not paying attention.

“John …” Alex was holding a very large gift-wrapped box. “What is this?”

John was smiling at him. “It might be an early birthday present.”

“Dammit, John, you just bought me a ton of clothes.”

“They weren’t for your birthday.”

“It’s not my birthday yet. My birthday’s on the eleventh.”

John sat down on the edge of the bed. “Right, but you won’t be here for your birthday. You’ll still be at the White House, so we won’t be able to celebrate then. Go ahead and open it.”

Alex pushed the suitcases out of the way and put the box down, chewing his bottom lip. “I didn’t get you anything for your birthday,” he said.

“My birthday’s in October. We barely knew each other then. Would you just open the damned box?”

Alex gave him a small smile, and tore the wrapping paper off. The large white box inside was marked with the name of the department store where they had bought Alex’s new clothes. He looked up at John. “You went back?”

John nodded, patiently waiting for Alex to continue. Alex removed the lid from the box and pushed aside a layer of tissue paper. Then he just stood there staring.

“Take it out and try it on,” John urged.

Alex lifted out the black overcoat and ran his hand over the fabric. He was pretty sure it was cashmere. John stood up and took it from him, holding it out so that Alex could slide his arms in. He buttoned the three buttons in the front and adjusted the shoulders, then stepped back.

“Damn, you look good, babe.”

Alex stared at himself in the mirror over the dresser. “I don’t even recognize myself. Seriously, though, John …”

“Listen,” John said, coming up behind him and talking to him in the mirror. “It’s January. It’s cold, and your only jacket is an olive green military surplus thing. You couldn’t possibly wear that over one of your new suits. And if you try to go without a jacket, you’ll freeze to death, and I don’t want that to happen.”

Alex nodded, still looking at his reflection. “I look like an adult,” he said in a small voice.

John laughed. “Yeah, you do, so you’ll have to act like an adult while you’re doing this internship.”

“I won’t have a problem with that,” Alex assured him.

John wrapped his arms around him and pulled him back so that he could kiss his cheek. “Of course you won’t,” he said, and laughed against Alex’s neck.

* * * * *

The first night in the Capital, there was an informal dinner reception planned for the new interns in the student center at St. Denis. They were going to have the opportunity to meet one another as well as some of the aides from Vice-President Akhdir’s and Speaker Dayton’s offices. As Alex understood it, most of their day-to-day contact would be with aides rather than the Vice-President himself. That made sense, and he was just happy to have the opportunity to meet the Vice-President at all. He put on his best jeans and a heavy gray sweater and walked the short distance from his dorm to the student center.

As he went up the concrete steps of the center, Alex reminded himself that he was well-qualified to be there even though he was only a freshman. Dr. Wilson had said he was the best candidate. He knew he was smart. Maybe some of the other interns would be from more conventional backgrounds or wealthier families, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have as much right as they did to be there. He took a breath, and as he entered the building, saw a sign that said _Intern Reception_ , with an arrow pointing left.

There were fewer than twenty people milling around in the room so far, more guys than girls, and several of them government aides in their thirties. On a table near the door were some name badges and a marker. Alex wrote his name neatly and stuck the badge on his sweater. There were a dozen or so tables for four scattered around the room, with a buffet set up at one end. Alex made his way to it just to get something to drink, reminding himself not to be nervous. A couple of guys his own age were standing in front of the drinks table talking like old friends.

“Hi,” Alex said tentatively. “I’m Alex Hamilton, from Columbia.”

The taller of the two stuck out his hand. “Ben Tallmadge,” he said, “and this is Nat Hale. We’re both from Yale.”

Alex’s eyebrows went up “Hale from Yale? Does that haunt you?”

Nat rolled his eyes. “You have no idea. That’s why Ben likes to introduce me. I’m always the punch line.”

Alex laughed. “How come Yale gets to send two interns?” he asked. “I thought they were trying to get students from as many different universities as possible.”

“That was the theory,” Ben said, “but then somebody from Brown backed out at the last minute, and Nat was available, so we’re here to harass the girl from Harvard.”

“Who’s that?” Alex asked, looking around the room.

Nat jerked his head in the direction of a table where two young women were seated. “The little one with the headband,” he said. “Abbie Smith. Scary smart.”

Alex could only see the back of her head. “Who’s that with her?” he asked. The girl sitting across from Abbie Smith had a dark, serious face and her hair pulled back in a neat bun.

“Prue Cummings,” Ben told him. “Also from Massachusetts, but she goes to West Point. Word is she takes no prisoners.”

“Okay, then,” Alex said. “I take it you guys from Connecticut are going to be dealing with the ladies from Massachusetts.”

“Not me,” Ben responded, holding up his hand. “I have a girlfriend.”

“Ben _always_ has a girlfriend,” Nat told Alex. “Who is it this week, Ben?”

“Shut up, Nat,” Ben said. “Aren’t you guys hungry?”

“Yes,” Alex replied. “Let’s get some food and grab a table.”

They did and settled at a table at some distance from the Massachusetts girls. “Are you both going to be interning with the Vice-President?” Alex asked.

Ben shook his head. “I’m with Speaker Dayton,” he said.

“They thought they should split us up,” Nat added.

“I can understand that,” Alex nodded.

“See, Ben,” Nat said to his friend in an aggrieved tone, “you always get us in trouble.”

They were still laughing when Alex heard his name.

“Is that Alex Hamilton?” a familiar voice was asking somebody a short distance away.

Alex turned around and stood up. “Oh, shit,” he said. “Hello, TJ.”

TJ made his way to their table and sat down without waiting to be invited.

Alex sighed and introduced him. “Ben, Nat, this is Tom Jefferson, mostly known as TJ. TJ, Ben Tallmadge and Nat Hale from Yale.”

“Hale from Yale?” TJ asked.

“Thanks, Alex,” Nat muttered.

“Where do you go to school?” Ben inquired.

“Yeah, where?” Alex echoed. “You’re hard to keep track of.”

TJ flushed. “Don’t start, Alex.” He turned to Ben and Nat. “I go to William and Mary.”

Ben looked back and forth from Alex to TJ. “So I assume you two know each other?”

“Yeah,” Alex responded. “We were actually roommates for a while until TJ decided to leave Columbia.” He gave TJ a sideways look. “Thanks for the coffee maker, by the way.”

“You’re welcome,” TJ responded. “Are you with Akhdir or Dayton?”

“The Vice-President.”

“Me too.”

“This should be fun,” Nat commented. “You two, me, and the scary Harvard girl. There should be one more. Anybody know who it is?”

TJ nodded. “A guy named Frank Marion. That’s him talking to the blonde aide with glasses. Her name’s Claire Austin.”

Frank Marion was short, thin, dark, and unassuming-looking.

“You know the aide?” Alex asked.

TJ shrugged. “Friend of the family.”

Alex rolled his eyes.

“So how come there are two Yalies here?” TJ wanted to know.

Ben raised an eyebrow. “Yalies? Seriously? There was supposed to be a guy from Brown, but he backed out.”

“Backed out of an opportunity like this? Is he nuts?”

“No idea,” Ben said. “He’s some sort of track star, and there’s an international indoor meet this week. They’re looking at him for the Olympics.”

TJ gave a dismissive snort. “Well, if running around a track is more important to him than the future of his country, it’s just as well he was replaced.”

“Right,” Ben agreed, giving Alex a _Can you believe this guy?_ look. Alex snickered.

“So you’re going to be working with Speaker Dayton?” TJ asked Ben. “Who else is in your group?”

“Prue Cummings is. That’s her over there with Abbie. She goes to West Point. There’s a guy named Ethan from Dartmouth, and then a couple more. I haven’t met them yet.”

“Five in each group, then.”

“That’s what I understand.”

Someone over near the buffet table was tapping on a microphone, and they looked up. The man smiled and began speaking into the mike. “Hi, I’m Jim Bridges, and I’m an aide to Speaker Dayton.” He gestured to the blond woman. “This is Claire Austin, who works with the Vice-President. You’ll be seeing a lot of us over the next few weeks. You’ve all been selected from among the best political science students in some of our best colleges. This administration may be drawing to a close, but we still feel that you all can learn a lot from your time here. Claire and I are going to do everything we can to help you make the most of this program.”

Claire took over the microphone at this point and asked the interns to stand up one at a time and introduce themselves. By now, Alex knew everyone who was going to be working with Vice-President Akhdir. In Speaker Dayton’s group, in addition to Ben Tallmadge and Prudence Cummings, there was the only other female in the group, Lydia Darragh, who went to Princeton, a tall long-chinned guy named Ethan Allen, from Dartmouth, and finally, a University of Penn student, Anthony Wayne, who had had everybody at his table laughing throughout dinner. An interesting assortment of people, Alex thought. All of them were ambitious, hard-working, and really smart. Maybe even as smart as he was.

Alex came down early the next morning for breakfast, happy to see that there were donuts. Ben and Nat joined him a few minutes later, and TJ not long after that. It looked like they were going to be stuck with TJ. He had facetimed John after dinner the night before and told him about TJ being part of the program, so by now everybody knew. Angelica had texted him at six in the morning with a lot of questions that he hadn’t answered yet. He’d always found Angelica and TJ’s love-hate relationship a little tiresome. That feeling was intensified when TJ asked him over their breakfast coffee, “How’s the lovely Angelica?”

“Still way out of your league,” Alex told him. He was not going to pass messages as if they were in fifth grade.

Ben and Nat watched TJ expectantly. TJ didn’t disappoint. “Fuck you,” he said and strode away from the table.

“So – uh -- you and TJ aren’t exactly friends?” Nat asked.

“Gee, is it obvious?” Alex responded sarcastically.

“Yeah, don’t mind me,” Nat went on, “but we all have to work together for a few weeks.”

“Oh, TJ and I can work together,” Alex assured him. “We were both members of the SPG, both officers, in fact, and we worked on getting people registered and getting out the vote for Peyton Randolph.”

“Too bad there wasn’t more of that,” Ben commented.

“Well, he won New York.”

“Connecticut too,” Nat said. “In fact …” he stopped for a minute and tapped his fingers on the table. “Only two people here are from states he didn’t win – Anthony Wayne from Pennsylvania and Frank Marion from South Carolina.”

“Pennsylvania was so damn close,” Alex recalled, shaking his head in disgust.

“You said you and TJ were both in SPG?” Nat asked. “So are Ben and I. I wonder …” He looked around the room thoughtfully.

Alex looked at him. “Well, it wouldn’t be surprising if a lot of us were. President Washington’s administration is progressive, so most of us may be members of Students for Progressive Government.”

“Yeah, makes sense,” Nat agreed absently.

Alex wondered what else Nat was thinking about.

* * * * *

In person, Vice-President Akhdir looked exactly as he did on TV. He was tall and fit, with his iron-gray hair cut short. Anyone could recognize him as a former military man. In fact, most of his staff referred to him as the General. His heavy brows and prominent high-bridged nose made his face look intimidating, but his smile charmed everyone. Alex understood immediately that the General was a patriot, a man deeply committed to the Constitution and government by the people. He wished again that this highly-qualified man had run for President.

The Vice-President was taking a little time out of his busy day to get acquainted with his new interns. “I want you to tell me, in no more than two sentences, why you are studying political science, and why you are interested in public service in government.” He looked at the five of them expectantly, then randomly gestured to Nat. “You can go first.”

There was a little rustle of relief from the other four, and Nat took a breath. “I think democracy is the best hope for the future, sir,” he said, “and I want to leave the world better than I found it.”

_He’s an idealist,_ Alex thought. _Not a bad thing._

The General nodded without comment and pointed to Abbie Smith. “I think I can be useful in government. I can help implement programs and positions that will strengthen our country,” she responded.

_Policy wonk,_ Alex decided. _Well, we need them too._

TJ was next. “Our country will need a new generation of leaders. I want to be sure I have the training and experience to help lead.”

_Thinks he’s going to be in charge, does he?_ We’ll see about that.

Frank Marion had been quiet all along, barely engaging in even the early-morning small talk in the van that had brought them to the White House. Alex was interested to hear what he had to say. Frank looked straight at the Vice-President. “This country was founded on the hopes and dreams, the sweat and blood of thousands of brave men and women,” he said. “I would like to honor their memories by doing everything I can to ensure its survival as a republic.”

Alex looked at Frank with new respect. _That’s the statement of a real patriot._

Alex was last. “Our Constitution is the greatest secular document ever written and has already stood the test of centuries. I want to both protect it and perpetuate it.”

The General gave his rare smile. “If I could predict the future, I’d say we’ve got a Supreme Court Justice, two Senators, a Secretary of State, and a President in this group. At least there’s the potential for that, although I expect Speaker Dayton is over on the Hill telling his group the same thing. I’m going to ask you to wait outside my office for now while I have a word with Claire.”

They filed out silently, thinking about the Vice-President’s words. Alex wondered if TJ had already decided that he was the one who was seen as Presidential material. They stood in the hall and looked at each other self-consciously.

“So,” Nat began, “what do you want to be when you grow up?”

They all laughed at that, then Abbie said, “Well, I certainly don’t want to run for elective office. I want to work on policy and platforms.”

“I guess that puts you at State,” TJ decided.

Abbie shrugged. “Maybe. I’m certainly interested in diplomacy.”

“Who’s on the Supreme Court, then?” TJ asked.

“That’s got to be Alex,” Nat said. “He’s the Constitution guy.”

“I’ll take it,” Alex agreed with a grin.

“And every opinion he writes will be five hundred pages long,” TJ commented. “His clerks will hate him.”

Alex just laughed. He liked the idea of writing five-hundred page legal opinions. “So that leaves the three of you for the Senate and the Presidency – Nat, TJ, Frank, who’s going to be President one day?”

All three of them looked uncomfortable. “Maybe we should just let the future itself decide the outcome of this,” Frank said. “I’m not sure we should be making it into a game.”

He’s the one, Alex thought. He’s the one the General saw as a future President. For once, he kept his opinion to himself, realizing that speaking about it would only embarrass Frank. He smiled as that thought occurred to him. Maybe John was having some influence on him.

He texted John at lunchtime, sandwich in one hand, phone in the other: “TJ is still a jerk. Nat and Ben from Yale are good guys. Frank Marion is from SC. Do you by any chance know him?”

John texted back: “Give my love to TJ,” followed by three heart-eye emojis, then “Frank Marion’s name sounds familiar. Might know his family??”

Alex swallowed his bite of chicken salad on whole wheat and turned to Frank. “Hey, my friend John Laurens is from Charleston,” he said. “Do you know his family?”

“I’m not sure,” Frank replied, his attention seeming to be on his soup. “Is he by any chance Henry Laurens’s son?”

“I don’t know his father’s first name,” Alex admitted, realizing that was kind of strange. “His mom passed away a couple of years ago, and he’s got four younger siblings.”

Frank nodded. “Yeah, that’s Henry Laurens’s family. Your friend’s the oldest son.” He ate a couple of spoonfuls of soup. He finally looked up at Alex. “I’m in the National Guard ROTC. Henry Laurens is my commanding officer.”

“Really? How well do you know him?”

“Not very.”

“What’s he like?”

Frank put his spoon down on his tray and got up. “You should ask his son,” he said briefly. He picked up his tray and carried it over to the return window, then left the cafeteria, Alex staring after him.

The afternoon was spent with Claire, working up policy positions in the face of a military threat in Eastern Europe. Abbie Smith owned this one, laying out both diplomatic and military procedures that would meet a number of possible scenarios. Alex discussed it with Ben, Nat, and TJ at dinner that night, along with Tony Wayne, who had joined them.

“You were right about Abbie being scary smart,” Alex said to Ben. “There was literally not a single response she didn’t foresee and plan for.”

Ben nodded. “If she and Prue Cummings formed an alliance, they could take over the world in about twenty-four hours.”

“Maybe Prue can be Defense Secretary when Abbie’s President,” Nat suggested.

“Abbie doesn’t want to run for office,” TJ reminded him.

“She should, though,” Alex said. “We need people that smart in office.”

TJ smirked at him. “Come on, Alex, we know you wanted Claire to pick your plan to send on to the Vice-President.”

“Sure I did,” Alex agreed. “We all did, you too, TJ, but we also all knew that Abbie’s was the best.”

“You actually admit hers was better than yours?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that’s a first,” TJ said, looking around the table with a knowing smile.

“Not really,” Alex responded, casually buttering a roll. “I don’t have a problem admitting somebody else’s work is better than mine when it is. You just didn’t know that because your work was never better than mine.”

Tony Wayne did his best to hide a laugh with a cough, and Ben muttered, “Oh, snap.”

TJ flushed to the roots of his red hair. “You’re a bastard, Alex.”

Alex gave him a long, measured look, then stood up. “You want to tell me what you mean by that?”

“Oh, shit,” Nat said and grabbed Alex’s arm. “Sit down, you idiot.”

Ben, on Alex’s other side, stood up and leaned close so that only Alex could hear him. “I don’t know what’s going on, but if you get thrown out of this program for punching that asshole, we’ll all be sorry.”

TJ threw his napkin on the table and walked stiffly out the door. Alex, breathing hard, sat down. Tony Wayne examined TJ’s abandoned tray and said, “Dibs on his chocolate cake.”

Ben laughed at that. “You’re crazy, Tony.” He turned to Alex. “You want to give us a little background? You know, just so we can do our best to prevent murder?”

Alex ran his hand over his face. “Yeah, TJ and I don’t get along.”

“Check, we got that,” Ben said in exasperation. “It might help if we knew a little more.”

Alex let out a breath and looked over at Nat, who seemed like the most sympathetic. “I don’t really talk about my background much,” he muttered.

“Okay.” Nat nodded encouragingly.

“I was born in Puerto Rico, grew up partly there, partly on Martinique. My father wasn’t around, and my mom struggled with a lot of stuff.” Alex hated talking about this because no matter what he did, he always sounded defensive in his own ears. He shifted in his chair and went on. “She died when I was twelve, and I came to live with a cousin in New York. My mom had always told me that education was my way out of the life we had – we were always broke, and we moved around a lot because she was always trying to find a cheaper place. Anyway, she was right about education, and I worked hard in school. My cousin died of an overdose when I was sixteen, and I’ve been on my own since then.” He looked around. Ben, Nat, and Tony were all listening attentively.

“Anyway, TJ’s life has been the complete opposite. His family has tons of money, and he can’t understand what it’s like to have to struggle. Everything’s been easy for him, and I’ve had to fight for every single thing I’ve got. Until this year, I never had a piece of clothing that didn’t come from Goodwill or a thrift shop.” There. It was out. They could despise him if they wanted.

“You know,” Ben said calmly, “not all people with money act like jerks.”

Alex nodded, thinking of John, and of Gil, who owned an actual castle. “I know.”

“And I’m pretty sure TJ would be a jerk even if his family didn’t own half of Virginia.”

Alex nodded again. “You’re probably right.”

“So maybe it’s got nothing to do with family backgrounds, either yours or his.”

Alex considered that. “You mean we just can’t stand each other’s personalities? I guess that could be the case.”

Nat spoke up. “And, just saying, Alex – you might have a tiny chip on your shoulder pretty much all the time.”

“That’s not true,” Alex defended himself.

“Oh, yeah, it is,” Ben told him, grinning.

“Absolutely not.”

“You willing to bet your chocolate cake on that?” Tony asked hopefully.

Alex sat perfectly still. “You touch my cake, and I will put my fork through your hand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of the interns are based on actual historical figures, although some of their names are better known than others. Jonathan Dayton was the Speaker of the House of Representatives during George Washington's last term. The aides to Vice-President Akhdir and Speaker Dayton are original characters.  
> Also, I dropped a little real-life Easter egg into this chapter. I hope somebody finds it.  
> Thanks for reading. I'd love to hear from you.


	14. Thinking Past Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex completes his internship in the Capital, and there are some interesting revelations. He misses John, Eliza makes plans.

“TJ is such an asshole,” Alex complained to John when they facetimed.

“No kidding,” John responded. “You didn’t have to go two hundred and fifty miles away to figure that out.”

“He got mad just because I said my work is usually better than his.”

“I can’t imagine how that would have pissed him off,” John said, rolling his eyes.

Alex laughed. “Okay, I may have jerked him around a little.”

“Just stay out of trouble, please. I’m not there to keep an eye on you.”

“Don’t worry,” Alex told him. “Ben Tallmadge keeps reminding me how to behave.”

“Ben Tallmadge, huh? Is he cute?”

Alex pretended to think it over. “He’s okay, I guess. Nat Hale is the cute one.”

John shook his head. “Way to break my heart.”

Alex’s face turned serious. “You know I’m kidding, right?”

“Yeah, I do,” John said. “I miss you a lot.”

“I miss you too. What are you doing with all your free time?”

“Drawing, mostly. I’ll show you when you get back. What are you guys doing in all these sessions you talk about?”

“Mostly figuring out appropriate diplomatic and military responses to different scenarios they give us. Ben’s group is working on writing legislation for different situations. Maybe I should have been with the Speaker rather than the Vice-President because I’m really better at writing than at strategic planning. Anyway, Abbie Smith rules in our group. So far, she’s gotten top marks every time.”

“Is she the one you said was scary smart?” John asked.

“Yeah, and she is. The other one who’s really good is Frank Marion. He’s quiet, and doesn’t put himself forward, but I think he’s probably as smart as Abbie.”

“You’re not saying there are two people in the room who are smarter than you, are you?”

Alex grinned. “I know. It does seem unlikely.”

“I’m sure you can hold your own.”

“Yeah. Starting next week, they’re going to have all the interns together. We’re going to be working in pairs and in groups on different projects.”

“Do you get to pick who you work with or do they assign you?”

“They’ll be assigning us.”

“Here’s hoping they don’t assign you and TJ to work together.”

“Really.” Alex smiled at John’s face on the screen. “You’re cute, you know.”

“You may have told me that before. Wish you were here.”

“Me, too. I’ll see you in ten days, though.”

“When you get back, I’d like to take you out someplace nice for your birthday.”

“John, you don’t have to do that. You got me that beautiful coat, and …”

“Alex, stop. I just think it would be fun to go out to a restaurant for dinner – you know, like on a date?”

Alex put on a fake-shocked expression. “You want to date me?”

“Strangely enough, I do,” John told him. “I can’t figure it out.”

“It must be my irresistible charm,” Alex said, batting his eyelashes.

John didn’t laugh. “I think it is.”

* * * * *

Jim and Claire had organized the ten interns into two groups of three and one group of four.

“We’re starting,” Jim said, “by grouping you with people that we’ve already seen that you’re friendly with. We’ll change that up in a couple of days, partly to see how it affects your work, partly to remind you that in politics, you will have to get along with all kinds of people.”

Frank Marion, TJ, and Ethan Allen were in one group, the three girls, Abbie, Prue, and Lydia, in the second, and the group of four was Alex, Ben, Nat, and Tony Wayne, who everybody was now calling Crazy Tony. Ben had started it when Tony had proposed a piece of legislation that Ben predicted could never succeed anywhere, only to have Tony convince everyone else, including Speaker Dayton, that it was brilliant. Tony laughed about the nickname, but it didn’t really catch on until there was a late-night event that they still hadn’t been able to confirm in detail. All they knew for sure was that it involved Tony, a skateboard, and the Capitol crypt.

The project they were working on in the group was a domestic emergency scenario, a bridge collapse on an interstate highway with significant fatalities, hypothetically in Michigan. They needed to come up with a Presidential response, a coordination of emergency resources, and a legislative plan to prevent future similar events. Alex was working on what he thought was the easiest part, drafting a Presidential address. Ben and Tony were putting together proposed bills with funding plans to back them, and Nat was setting up a communication network to link the various federal departments with the Governor of Michigan and the state offices. They had an hour at the end of the day to review each other’s work and make suggestions.

“I think the President ought to take some responsibility in his speech,” Tony said to Alex.

Alex shook his head. “Infrastructure is a legislative issue.”

“That may be,” Ben responded, “but the President leads. There’s got to be some acknowledgement of that.”

Alex thought about it. “Yeah, okay, I get it. I’ll change it to ‘we,’ so that it’s clear responsibility is shared.”

They spent a little more time tweaking Nat’s communication plan, and then, as Alex put it, “refining” the proposed infrastructure bills. When they finished, they were all pretty satisfied with the package they had put together. All three groups were to present the next day, which happened to be Alex’s birthday. He hadn’t mentioned it to anybody and didn’t plan to; he really didn’t want to hear everybody exclaim about how young he was.

They presented first in the morning and it went well. Most of the critique was positive, and they were satisfied with their work. The other two groups also gave good presentations.

Everyone was feeling relaxed until Claire told them that their afternoon assignment would be to synthesize the work of all three groups into one. When they broke for lunch, Alex was already complaining.

“They want us to take three perfectly good plans and make them into one plan? Why can’t we just pick the best one?”

“I think they want us to get a feeling for how government actually works – you know, lots of committee discussion, lots of compromise, all that stuff,” Ben reminded him.

“They should just pick our plan and be done with it,” Alex insisted.

Nat stopped in his tracks and glared at him. “Is this how you’re going to be when you have a real government job? Intransigent and uncooperative?”

Alex flushed. “It just seems like a waste of time. Our plan is the best, definitely, but either of the other ones would do too. Does it really make a difference?”

“I think that’s what we’re supposed to figure out,” Nat said drily.

By the end of the day, everybody was exhausted and irritable, but even Alex had to admit that synthesizing the three plans had resulted in substantial improvements. Abbie Smith had found a miscalculation in Ben and Tony’s funding numbers, and it turned out that the best way to correct it was to adopt the funding proposal that Ethan had worked out. Prue Cummings had some suggestions about the communications network that simplified things. TJ had written a Presidential address that even Alex had to admit was excellent, even if he hated saying it.

Claire sent the two of them into another office to work out a final draft, which, surprisingly, they managed to do without coming to blows. When everything was done, Jim asked, “Why did we do this?”

It was obvious to everyone, but it was Frank Marion who responded with a small smile. “I think this was an exercise in frustration and compromise. We couldn’t get to the second without the first.”

“That’s the way it works,” Jim agreed. “Now go get some dinner.” He looked at Alex and grinned. “I hear there might be birthday cake.”

Alex looked down in embarrassment. Why in the world would they have a birthday cake?

Once everyone had started dinner in the cafeteria, Claire picked up the microphone. “We have a tradition of recognizing all interns’ birthdays during any of our programs. We only have one this session, so everybody say happy birthday to Alex Hamilton from the great state of New York!”

Jim carried in the sheet cake, walking slowly so as not to extinguish any of the eighteen – _dammit,_ Alex thought – candles. Ben and Nat jumped to their feet, applauding, quickly followed by everybody else, and somebody started singing. Alex stayed in his seat, his head down, turning bright red and wishing they would stop, but it got worse. No sooner had the song ended than Crazy Tony – of course, it would be him – started yelling, “Speech, speech!” Others joined in, and finally Alex got reluctantly to his feet.

“Um, first, everybody, thank you. I really appreciate your wanting to celebrate my birthday. But I also want to say thank you to everyone here for allowing me to be part of this amazing program. Jim and Claire, you’ve both taught me so much. Please pass on my thanks to Vice-President Akhdir and Speaker Dayton. The rest of you …” he paused and looked around the room “… there’s not a person here that I haven’t learned something from. I’ve made some new friends and re-connected with an old one, but more than that, I’ve gotten to know people who someday will be leading our country. I hope to be part of that leadership, but whether I am or not, if the rest of you are in charge, the Republic will be in good hands. Thank you.” He turned toward Jim and Claire. “I get the biggest piece of cake, right?” He sat down amid the laughter and found Nat, Ben, and Tony staring at him.

“How do you do that?” Ben asked.

“Do what?”

“Just talk off the top of your head like that and end up saying something significant?”

Alex shrugged. “Words are pretty easy for me. It’s a lot harder for me to shut up than to talk.”

Tony shook his head in disbelief. “If I ever run for office, I’m hiring you as my speechwriter. But first, I’m having some cake.”

After dinner, back in his room, Alex had a chance to check his phone and found birthday texts from Herc, Gil, Angelica, Eliza, Patty, and even Peggy. There was also a missed Facetime call from John. He called him back right away.

“Happy birthday, babe,” John said as soon as he answered. “When do I get to give you your birthday kiss?”

“Just one kiss?” Alex pouted. “Don’t I get eighteen?”

John smiled at him. “I’ll tell you what, you come home, and the first night you’re here, we can count, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Alex paused. “I miss you a lot.”

“I miss you too. You’ll be home in less than a week, though.”

“Still too long.”

“I know.”

Alex missed John, but he was surprised to find that he was also homesick for New York. He missed squabbling with Angelica. He missed Herc’s wisecracks and Gil’s earnestly tortured English. He missed hanging out at Betsy’s. He was learning a lot in the Capital, and he was grateful for it, but he wanted to go home.

He smiled at John’s face on his screen. “I’m going to need a lot of cuddle time next week.”

John smiled back. “Whatever you want, _mi amor._ ”

* * * * *

“We need to do something for Alex’s birthday,” Eliza said, sitting still so Angelica could paint her toenails.

Angelica dabbed carefully at her sister’s pinkie toe and gave her a halfhearted smile. “Okay, if you say so.”

“Come on, Ange, nobody else is going to give him a party. Mom makes us birthday cakes every year.”

“I know, I know. I just – I worry that you’re making it hard on yourself. Alex is with John. I know it’s hard for you to see them together, but you don’t distance yourself from him.”

“I don’t want to distance myself from him,” Eliza told her sister quietly. “I can still like being around him, can’t I?”

Angelica carefully wiped off excess pink polish with a cotton swab. “Are you hoping he and John will break up?” she asked.

“What?” Eliza was shocked. “No, of course not. They love each other, and they’re happy together.”

“Then what?”

“What do you mean?”

“What about you finding somebody to be happy with? If you keep following Alex around, that’s not going to happen.”

Eliza was quiet for a minute, staring at her toes. “I’ll know when it’s time to move on,” she said.

“You sure?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Okay, then, tell me what to bring to the party.”

* * * * *

On the last afternoon of the internship session, all ten interns were meeting with Vice-President Akhdir and Speaker Dayton. They were in a small conference room in the basement of the Capitol, which Alex thought was strange, and Claire and Jim were the only aides there. The two government officials spoke for a few minutes in generalities about the program and what they felt it had accomplished, then the Vice-President leaned back in his chair.

“You may find this meeting in this location to be a little odd,” he said, “but there is a reason for it.” He looked somberly from one to another of the young people gathered in the room. “As you all know, in only a few days, a new administration will take its place here. It is not exaggerating to say that some of us have grave concerns.”

There was a stir and a few murmurs from his audience, and he held up his hand. “Let me make it clear that this is not because the incoming President is from the opposing party. Transition from one party to another has happened many times, always peacefully. This transition is something different.” A chime from his phone startled everyone except Akhdir himself. He looked at the screen, then nodded to Jim, who left the room. The rest of them sat in silence, waiting for whatever it was that the Vice-President was about to tell them.

When Jim returned, they realized that it was not Vice-President Akhdir who was going to be speaking to them, but the President himself, who entered the room with Jim. He was accompanied by only one other person, an aide or perhaps a Secret Service officer. Everyone stood, and Alex glanced at Ben, who looked as uneasy as he felt. Neither of them spoke, but Ben tapped Alex’s arm and made a gesture to indicate writing, as if he wanted to suggest that he take notes. Alex shook his head almost imperceptibly, and Ben gave him a look of frustration that left him baffled.

“Please sit down,” President Washington said. “I hope all this cloak-and-dagger nonsense hasn’t alarmed anyone. From what the Vice-President and the Speaker tell me, though, I think that’s unlikely. From all indications, you are not easily frightened. What I am about to discuss with you may put you at risk, at risk of being harassed, imprisoned, or possibly even killed. If any of you feel that you are unwilling to put yourself in a dangerous position, you are free to leave now. It will not reflect negatively on you in any way.”

He waited a minute or two, while the interns looked at one another. They all stayed where they were.

“You all know that you were selected for this program because of your exceptional abilities and your interest in government. There were other factors, though, that went into the process of choosing candidates for this rather brief, unusual internship. First, we asked your professors to choose only those students who had the highest integrity and were absolutely trustworthy.” He smiled faintly. “That’s why there are only ten of you. We also stressed to them the importance of selecting only those students who had proven that they had the skills and the character to be leaders. All of you have already been in positions of leadership, many of you with the organization Students for Progressive Government. All of you are known to have the respect of your fellow students.”

Alex caught TJ’s eye across the room, and TJ gave him a nod. They might not get along socially, but they respected each other.

The President continued. “Vice-President Akhdir, Speaker Dayton and I, along with several others in this administration, have some real concerns about the future. Even with you, who have been shown to have the utmost integrity, I can’t divulge details. I will tell you, though, that if things are going to go wrong, the changes will occur within six months of the inauguration, probably less. Believe me, if there were any Constitutional way that we could prevent the events that we fear may take place, we would have done so. Ironically, the only actions we could take would violate the Constitution, and we can’t do that, even if it means that the Constitution will be at risk of being destroyed.” He sighed and shook his head. “You see that our hands are tied.”

Alex could feel his heart beating as he sat there, leaning forward to catch every word. Ben, next to him, had his chin on his hands and beyond him Nat was frowning and biting his lip. He couldn’t imagine having to face the dilemma that the President, the Vice-President, and the Speaker had encountered. They obviously knew of some sort of anti-government plot, but had no evidence with which to accuse the people they suspected.

“I most sincerely hope and pray that we are wrong about our suspicions. If we are, the country will continue has it has for the last couple of centuries. If we are not, however, we will be depending on you to save it.”

There was some movement now among the interns, a few voices asking _How?_ or _What do you mean?_

The President raised his hand. “We needed to find a group of potential leaders who had no previous ties to government. That excluded even those at the lower echelons, such as city council members. We had to ensure, moreover, that those potential leaders had a real understanding of the Constitution and of the processes of government, the respect of their peers, and the ability to work together. Finally, we chose only those who were deemed to have the courage to take this on. It is possible that by summer, you ten may be organizing a broad network of citizens to keep our country together. If you ask me how you will do that, I can’t tell you. All I can say is that we trust you to be able to figure that out.”

Behind him, Alex heard a tiny sob from Abbie. He was close to tears himself.

“As far as advance planning goes, we have made only a few decisions, and let me be clear, these are our recommendations only. You may decide to do things differently. That’s fine. You’re here because we trust your judgment.” He glanced over at the Vice-President. “General,” he said, “how about if you review our outline with the group.”

The Vice-President nodded and stood up. “After our evaluation, it’s our suggestion that Ben Tallmadge be in charge of communication, assisted by Nat Hale and Lydia Darragh. Ben, you might want to think about how you could create a secure communication network that used neither technology nor the postal service. It is probable that neither phones nor email would be secure.”

Ben didn’t ask any questions. “I’ll get to work on it,” he said.

“The rest of you will use the next few months to organize others in your locations. You are all in universities for a reason; there will be other university students who will feel as you do. Search out the ones who have the skills you’ll need. Those skills will be many and varied. You may need interpreters – we’re aware that most of you speak more than one language. You may need to find those who are able to forge documents and permits, carry messages, listen unobtrusively, and report back clearly. I know it all sounds melodramatic, like something out of an old spy movie, but believe me, we would not be telling you any of this if we didn’t feel that there was a real need to.”

President Washington took over again. “As far as discussing this with anyone else, that was one of the hardest decisions that we made when we came up with this admittedly quixotic idea. We ask that you be cautious, but again, we must trust your judgment. You will decide who is trustworthy and who isn’t. You will decide how to proceed. I tell you this because, if things go as we fear they will, we will not be here to advise you. Everything will be in your hands.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My plot [Something Scary Is About To Go Down And The President Can't Stop It] is entirely fictional and almost certainly impossible. Still, a story needs a plot, so there it is. More unlikely but exciting stuff will be revealed later. In the next chapter, Alex gets to go home to John, Eliza throws a party, and President Blodman is inaugurated. Two out of three of those things are fun.  
> Thanks for the comments and kudos. Please feel free to tell me how you feel about this story and to offer suggestions. Your opinions are important to me.


	15. I Have Never Seen the General So Despondent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The internship concludes. Ben Tallmadge confides in Alex. Alex returns to New York and celebrates his birthday again. President Blodman is inaugurated. John and Alex plan a date. Alex worries about a paper he has to write and about the future he'll have to prepare for.

Alex sat on the train, bundled up in his black cashmere overcoat and tartan scarf with two sweaters on underneath. They said the train was heated, but he didn’t believe them. It was still too damned cold. Ordinarily, he would have used the three-hour train ride to read or play around on his phone, but this time he was lost in thought.

After the meeting the day before, all of the interns had dined at the White House with the President and Mrs. Washington, Vice-President Akhdir and his wife Cathie, and Speaker Dayton and his wife Susan. It was a fairly formal affair, covered by the press, with lots of photographers in attendance. Everyone smiled for pictures. Everyone answered questions put to them by reporters with courteous but cliché answers.

“I’m honored to have had this opportunity,” said all the interns in one way or another. “I’ve learned so much.”

“Yes, indeed, they are very bright young people,” asserted the President, the Vice-President, and the Speaker. “The future is in good hands.”

There had been a surreal air to all of it, in the glittering dining room, the women in brightly colored gowns, the men in dark suits. Alex was deeply grateful to John and Herc for making sure that he would fit in with the others in the room. For once he felt like he belonged, wearing his navy blue suit with a snowy white shirt and a dark red tie. He had surveyed the assortment of silverware without too much fear. “There are only two rules,” John had told him. “First, work from the outside in; second, always watch your hostess and do what she does.”

Alex had unobtrusively kept his eyes on pretty Cathie Akhdir as she smiled and made conversation, seemingly at ease with everyone. It wasn’t as scary if you had a lead to follow. He managed to make small talk with Prue Cummings, unexpectedly stunning in a violet gown with her long hair falling over her shoulders instead of up in a bun. Frank Marion, on his other side, was someone he already felt comfortable with. Frank was quiet, but not silent, and Alex found in the course of the conversation that Frank also spoke French. “My grandfather was from France,” he explained, “so I learned it growing up. I can’t spell in French, though,” he added, laughing. “Actually, I’m a terrible speller in English too.” Alex had already concluded that Frank Marion was one of the most intelligent people he had ever met, and was even more impressed at his total lack of arrogance.

“I want to get your number before we leave tomorrow,” Alex had said, “so we can stay in touch.”

“I’m sure we’ll all stay in touch,” Frank had responded with just a shade of irony.

It had been easy there at that enjoyable dinner, to feel that the afternoon’s conversation had been some sort of a bad dream, but on their way back to the dorm, Ben had lagged a little behind the others and had signaled Alex to walk with him. When he was sure everyone else was out of hearing, he said, “I had my phone on. I recorded everything the President said. That’s what I was trying to tell you.”

Alex was aghast. “What? Why would you do that?”

“Because I think there should be a record.” He hunched his shoulders against the cold and looked down. “We don’t know what’s going to happen. What if we need proof that President Washington knew about some sort of treasonous activity?”

“What if it turns out that you get charged with treason because you have the recording?” Alex countered.

“I’m going to hide it.”

“Seriously? Hide it? Where, in your sock drawer?”

“No, you idiot, I’m going to hide it digitally. I’m good at that stuff.”

Alex shook his head. “I think you should delete it.”

“Anybody who’s any good would still be able to figure out that I had done it. The only way I can actually get rid of it is destroy the phone.”

“Worth it, I think,” Alex told him.

“No,” Ben responded thoughtfully. “I think it might be useful at some point.”

“Who else knows?”

“Just you, Nat, and Crazy Tony.”

“Not Frank?”

“Not yet. I’m not going to tell anybody else right now. I’m just going to hide my file and hold onto it.”

“Okay,” Alex agreed reluctantly. “Just be sure you hide it well.”

“I will.”

Now, on the train, Alex was trying to think ahead. How in the world was he to go about organizing – what? Some sort of underground resistance? What was going to happen that they would have to resist?

He reminded himself that the President trusted him and the nine others who had been in the program. He also realized that he himself trusted everyone else in the group. While he and TJ didn’t get along on a personal level, he knew that TJ would never betray his country or its principles. Frank was someone that he knew he would respect forever. Ben, Nat, and Crazy Tony had all become good friends. The rest of them, Abbie and Prue, those “scary-smart” Massachusetts girls, as well as Ethan and Lydia, had impressed him with their intelligence and dedication. We can do this, he thought. I can do it.

* * * * *

John was waiting for him at the station, of course, circling the block since parking was impossible, and he pulled over to the curb the minute he saw Alex, ignoring the honking horns and curses of other drivers.

“Welcome home, _mi amor,”_ he said, his face lighting up.

“God, I have missed that smile,” Alex told him. “Can I kiss you?”

“Maybe not while I’m driving in Manhattan traffic, but just wait till we get back to the apartment.”

Alex grinned. “I’m not going to the dorm?”

“Not yet.”

They started making out in the elevator of the parking garage, and the minute John closed the door to his apartment, he had Alex up against it, pressing against him, his hands on Alex’s shoulders to hold him in place, and then they were kissing while Alex tried to unbutton his coat. John finally pulled back to help him and then started to laugh.

“It’s going to take me an hour to get your clothes off, babe,” he said. “Where’ve you been, Antarctica?”

“It was cold on the train,” Alex replied with as much dignity as he could muster. “Be careful of my nice coat.”

John smiled and obediently hung the coat up in the closet. By the time he helped Alex out of both sweaters, a long-sleeved tee shirt, his jeans, and some heavy socks, they were in the bedroom. The bed was turned down invitingly, and Alex saw that there were two extra blankets on it.

“Have you been waiting for me?” he asked softly.

“Every single day.” John pulled off his own tee shirt and jeans and threw them on the floor. “Come here,” he whispered, and took Alex in his arms. “I’ll keep you warm.”

Later, comfortable and drowsy, Alex lay curled around John, blankets pulled up to his chin, his cheek resting on John’s soft curls. John was asleep, soft and relaxed against him, and Alex marveled as always at how sweet and beautiful he was. What if something happened that put John at risk? The President had made it clear that there were dangerous times ahead, dangerous to himself, to those who resisted, to the country itself. He’d been deliberately vague; if he was wrong, he didn’t want innocent people tarnished by his suspicions. Alex had thought of John when President Washington had mentioned that they would need forgers, but now, holding John, he had to ask himself if he really wanted to bring John into a resistance group. If the President was right, everyone in that group would risk their lives. He thought of his other friends, people he knew he could trust – Angelica and Eliza, Herc, Gil, Patty, maybe Johan Livingston and Deb Sampson. Should he talk to them now or wait until something actually happened? Why scare them if he didn’t have to?

He was still mulling that over when John’s phone alarm went off and made him jump. John, half asleep, reached for the phone and shut it off. He stretched and rubbed his eyes like a little kid, then turned to kiss Alex softly.

“Hey, you’re right here in my bed, just where I’ve always wanted you,” he said.

“Can we just stay here?” Alex asked, playing with John’s hair.

“Mm-mm, sorry, got to get up.”

“Why?”

“Because I promised Angelica we’d meet her at Betsy’s so you can tell her all about the internship.”

Alex frowned and snuggled down farther under the covers. “I’ll text her later.”

“Come on,” John insisted. “She’ll be mad at me, and you know how scared I am of her when she’s mad.”

Alex snickered at that, but finally got out of bed and into his warm clothes. He borrowed one of John’s jackets so he wouldn’t have to wear his new overcoat to Betsy’s, and he grumbled a little about having to get up at all and then walk in the cold all the way to Betsy’s – a distance of only a few blocks. There were no parking facilities at Betsy’s, so John refused to even consider taking the car.

“You could drop me off and then find a parking space,” Alex suggested.

“You mean I could drop you off and bring the car back here, don’t you? No, my fragile little flower, you’re going to have to walk in the cold, but we’ll wrap you up.”

Alex bundled himself in his heavy socks, two sweaters, John’s jacket and gloves, two scarves and a hat pulled down over his ears. John tried not to laugh. “You’ll be fine,” he said.

“You know, I read an article about the dangers of breathing super-cold air …” Alex began, but John shoved him out the door.

“Just pull your scarf up over your nose.”

It took them about fifteen minutes to walk to Betsy’s at a fast pace, Alex complaining about the cold the whole way. When they got there, John opened the door and pushed him in, and the whole place exploded with shouts of “Surprise! Happy birthday!” and lots of applause. Alex stood stock-still, peering out over his scarf in astonishment, as if he were trying to be sure that they were really yelling for him. Finally John, laughing, gave him a nudge toward the tables where all their friends were sitting. On another table, there was a three-tier cake with bright yellow frosting and a pile of presents. Alex walked slowly over to the chair that Gil had pulled out for him, then stopped and looked around again. “You guys!” he said. He unwound his scarves and took off his jacket, taking a little time to compose himself. Then he turned to John. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Duh, it’s a surprise party.”

“Come on, sit down,” Eliza said.

Alex complied and finally started to take everything in. Herc’s sister Venus was there, along with Johan Livingston, Nate Pendleton, Joe Allicocke, and Deb Sampson. Both Patty and Mark Willet were seated at a table, even though they had their work tee shirts on. Betsy was at the counter grinning at him. There were a few other customers scattered around, but they all seemed willing to participate in the party too.

Angelica stood up with her cup of coffee in her hand. “I’ve been elected to make the birthday toast,” she announced, with a sidelong glance at Alex, “so I’ll keep it short and sweet – extra sweet, six sugars, please, as Alex would request – and just say happy eighteenth birthday to Alex Hamilton, who is finally an adult, no matter how he acts.”

There was laughter and applause and a protest of “Hey!” from Alex, and everybody drank some coffee and started talking. Betsy brought a fresh cup of extra-sweet hazelnut-mocha over for Alex, and gave him a quick birthday kiss on his cheek.

“Presents or cake first?” Eliza asked.

“I don’t care,” Alex said, ducking his head in embarrassment. He wasn’t used to birthday parties. He wondered what his friends would say if he told them this was only the second time he’d had a birthday cake – and that the first time had been a few days ago in the Capital. As for presents, his mom had come up with something some years, usually a book, but it had never been a sure thing. There were more birthday presents stacked on the table next to him than he had gotten for the seventeen preceding birthdays. It was probably better not to mention any of that. He’d probably get emotional, and that would make everyone else feel uncomfortable.

“Okay, then,” Eliza was saying, “I’ll decide. Hey, everybody, Alex is going to open his presents.”

Alex gulped down the last of his coffee and handed his mug to Patty for a refill, while John pulled his chair up closer and Eliza organized the presents and cards. The first card included an Amazon gift card and was signed “Love and happy birthday, Philip and Catherine Schuyler,” with “and Peggy!” scrawled underneath in different handwriting. Alex showed the card to John and felt his throat get tight. He said to Eliza, “Your family is wonderful.”

She smiled and nodded. “I know. I know I’m lucky.”

Johan, Nate, Joe and Deb had also chosen to give gift cards, but theirs were to the college bookstore. Alex was delighted that he would be able to replenish his supply of pens and notebooks. Betsy gave him a handmade gift certificate for half a dozen scones, and Patty and Mark had each gotten him one of the new coffee mugs that Betsy was now selling, bright yellow with rainbow lettering, just like their tee shirts. “That way you have a set,” Mark explained, grinning. Eliza watched Patty’s face, wondering how she felt about giving Alex mugs that were certainly intended for him and John to use. Patty saw her and gave her a small smile and a shrug. She knew John wasn’t ever going to be the guy for her.

It was ironic, Eliza thought, that she and Patty had that in common: John was never going to be in love with Patty, and Alex was never going to be in love with her. She smiled back and picked out the box with the fanciest wrapping and handed it to Alex. It was from Herc and Venus and contained a really nice pair of leather gloves, black to go with his new overcoat.

“I’m going to be the best-dressed guy in New York,” Alex declared, trying the gloves on.

“Only if you let John and me keep dressing you,” Herc told him.

The smallest present was from Angelica, according to the card that was with it. It was a personalized phone case with the Preamble to the Constitution printed on it. “Oh, very cool!” Alex said, grinning. He took his phone out of his pocket and replaced the plain black cover immediately.

There were two more presents left, and one of them, Alex could tell, was a book. It was wrapped in some rather wrinkled tissue paper and secured with a lot of tape. There was a piece of red ribbon around it tied in an uneven bow. “I think this must be from Gil,” Alex guessed, “because of the unique wrapping style.”

 _“Tu as raison,”_ Gil admitted. “I am not very skilled at wrapping.”

“I don’t care,” Alex said. “It’s a book, and I love books.”

The book was old and a bit worn, and Alex read the title aloud. _“De la Démocratie en Amérique.”_ His eyes widened and he turned to Gil. “Is this a first …”

 _“Non, non,_ not a first edition,” Gil told him, “but it’s an early edition, and I thought you might like to have it in the original French. I could only find the first volume, though,” he added, shrugging apologetically.

“Are you _kidding_ me? This is amazing!” he opened it to the title page and touched it gently, then reached over for Gil’s hand. “This is one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen. Thank you.”

 _“Mais de rien,”_ Gil responded, a little embarrassed.

Alex held the book up for his friends to see and explained, “It’s De Tocqueville’s _Democracy in America_ in French.” Only the poli sci majors seemed to recognize it, but it was clear that Alex was thrilled with it, so everyone was pleased for him.

Eliza handed him the last present. “This one’s from me,” she said.

Alex tore off the wrapping and started laughing. “You said you were going to frame it, didn’t you?” he asked.

It was John’s cartoon drawing of him and TJ arguing. Eliza had had it professionally matted and framed so it could be hung on the wall. Alex showed it to John first. “Pretty cool,” John said. “That’s my first mounted piece for my first gallery show.”

“You’re not getting it back,” Alex told him. “It’s my birthday present.”

Eliza ended the fake argument by announcing that it was time to cut the cake. She lit the single candle and they all sang, random customers joining in, then she told Alex to make a wish.

“I’m not superstitious,” he said.

“Make a wish anyway,” Angelica ordered. “It’s a tradition.”

“Okay.” Alex closed his eyes. _I wish we can all stay friends like this,_ he requested silently. After eighteen years of moving from place to place and struggling to fit in, he felt like he finally belonged somewhere.

Betsy boxed up the leftover cake for him, and John walked with him back to the dorm.

“Stay here tonight?” Alex coaxed, nuzzling John’s neck. “We can have cake for breakfast.”

“I didn’t bring any clean clothes.”

“You’ve got clothes here from last time. I washed them with mine.”

“I know. I was just teasing you. You know I’ll stay here with you.”

Alex led him into the bedroom, and helped him undress, running his hands down his body from collarbone to hip, touching every part of him he could until John pushed him down impatiently and lay on top of him, grinding against him. Alex looked up at John’s face above him, the freckles scattered across his warm brown skin, the irises of his eyes clear green around the dark, wide pupils, his curls hanging down. Alex reached up and twisted his fingers into the curls, pulling John’s face down to his and holding him in place for a long kiss.

“I love you,” John said when he finally pulled away. “I didn’t think I’d ever be able to say that to anybody else ever again, but I love you, and now I can’t stop saying it.”

“I love you too,” Alex said. “Don’t stop saying it. Don’t ever stop. Don’t stop. Please – oh, God, John, please don’t stop.” By then he wasn’t talking about the words.

* * * * *

January twentieth, Inauguration Day, was the last day of winter break. Everyone had gathered in John’s apartment to watch the inauguration, more in a mood of mockery than celebration.

“Maybe it won’t seem so bad if we’re all together,” Angelica said.

“No, it will,” Alex responded, “but at least everybody else will understand.”

John had decided that a ton of junk food would help. So he had ordered pizza and wings, made a double batch of chocolate chip cookies, and stocked the freezer with ice cream. The fridge was full of cold drinks and of course Alex had the coffee maker going. Gil had brought wine.

“Are you old enough to drink that?” Eliza asked, her eyebrow up.

_“En France, oui.”_

Even Eliza’s two years of high school French was enough to understand that. “Yeah, but I meant in the United States, because, you know, that’s where we are.”

Gil shrugged. “I am a citizen of France.”

Eliza just rolled her eyes.

“What kind of inaugural address do you suppose a comedian will give?” Joe Allicocke asked as the ceremonies got underway on TV.

“Funny? Stupid? Short, I hope,” Johan Livingston responded.

A military band played a few patriotic songs and Herc stared at them for a minute. “Look at that!” he ordered, pointing at the TV.

Everybody looked, but nobody understood what he meant.

“What?” Alex asked.

“The uniforms,” Herc responded. “They’ve changed the uniforms.”

Deb Sampson narrowed her eyes. “You know, you’re right. My brother was in the Navy, and their uniforms didn’t have that much gold braid.”

“Is it because they’re in the band or something?” Patty asked.

John shook his head. “No, look over to the right, where there are regular soldiers just standing in formation. Look at all the sparkly stuff on their uniforms.”

He was right. Bands of gold braid were on all the uniform sleeves, and there was a bright gold stripe down the side of the pants. Even the hats had added gold trim.

“They look awful,” Deb said, her voice sad. “They look toy soldiers.”

“It’s terrible,” Herc agreed. “I mean, not just that it’s bad design, which it is, but that it makes our soldiers look like circus performers.”

“And so it starts,” Alex murmured.

“What do you mean?” John asked.

It wasn’t time to talk about it yet, Alex had decided. “Just that it’s going to be very different from President Washington.”

An operatic soprano began a song that none of them recognized, and Eliza started handing out slices of pizza.

Alex watched the TV closely, trying to read the expressions on the faces of Vice-President Akhdir, Speaker Dayton, and President Washington himself. They all looked as if they had been carved from marble. Over the weeks of his internship, he had come to know General Akhdir’s face well, and even on the television screen, he could see how tightly his jaw was set. There were dark shadows under his eyes, and he stared straight ahead. Cathie Akhdir looked up at her husband, then glanced away and unobtrusively wiped her eyes with a tissue. Alex's throat got tight, thinking of her at the dinner on that last night, of her kindness to all of them. The Washingtons’ son Parker was seated behind his parents with his wife Ellie and their two young daughters. An only child, Parker was his parents’ pride and joy, a graduate of the University of Virginia who was currently working as the head of a non-profit that helped provide accessible housing for disabled veterans. Most people thought that Parker Washington would be entering politics himself sometime soon, and Alex, for one, was looking forward to that prospect.

The soprano finished, and it was time for the new Vice-President to be sworn in. They watched George King come forward. He had a round face with full lips and slightly protruding bright blue eyes.

“Looks like a fish,” Herc remarked.

Alex choked off a laugh. “Yeah, he does, and now I’m going to think of that every time I see his face.”

Charles Blodman himself stepped up next, and took the oath of office, grinning broadly.

“He is not a serious man,” Gil commented. “One should be more serious to be President. I think this one is stupid.”

There was agreement from around the room, and then they quieted down to listen to the inaugural address.

To everyone’s surprise, Blodman made no effort to be clever or amusing. Instead, he spoke of a bleak nation, a country where citizens had few opportunities and less incentive, where a lack of patriotism lowered both national pride and individual morale. He talked about fear in the cities and a high crime rate. He told his country that he had been elected just in time to help, but that sacrifice would be required from all of them.

“What the actual _fuck_ is he talking about?” John asked. “How did I miss the national crime wave?”

“And the epidemic of depression,” Angelica added. “Where the hell did he get his statistics on mental health?”

Alex looked as grim as they’d ever seen him. “Blodman didn’t write that speech,” he said. “I’ll bet he never even saw it before this morning. That speech was pure George King.”

* * * * *

The first week back at school brought miserable icy weather that had Alex threatening to drop out of college and move back to the Caribbean.

“He’s not serious,” John told Angelica as he helped Alex out of his usual swaddling of scarves and sweaters Wednesday afternoon at Betsy’s.

“I swear to God,” Alex argued, holding his gloved hands over his ears.

“Here you go,” Patty said, handing him a cup of coffee, “extra sweet, extra hot.”

Alex gulped the coffee gratefully.

“You could burn your esophagus,” Gil warned.

“I – don’t – fucking – care,” Alex retorted.

“Give him a minute,” John advised.

“Don’t answer for me,” Alex snapped.

“Is all this just because of the weather?” Angelica asked.

John shook his head. “He has a paper.” He made it sound like a disease.

Eliza tried not to smile. “What kind of paper?”

Alex drank some more coffee. “Dr. Wilson wants me to summarize the internship experience, and then give a presentation about it to the class.”

“That’s your Constitutional Principles of Government class, right?” Angelica inquired.

Alex nodded.

“Well, honestly, that’s not unreasonable. You’re the one who did the internship, so it’s only fair that you share what you learned with the class. Are you getting credit for it?”

Alex nodded again and finished his coffee. Without being asked, John picked up the mug and went to get a refill.

Angelica leaned down so that her face was close to Alex’s. “I just want to say while John’s not here that you are damned lucky he puts up with you,” she told him.

“I know,” Alex admitted, flushing. “I know I’m probably stressing too much about the paper, but I’m getting a quarter’s credit for the internship and the paper and presentation, so I want to be sure it’s good.”

“Alex, you have never written anything that wasn’t good,” Eliza reminded him. “When’s it due?”

“I have to have the paper in by Friday night, and the presentation is Tuesday. That way Dr. Wilson can review anything he needs to with me on Monday.”

“Stop worrying,” Eliza told him. “It will be fine.”

John came back with the coffee. “Thanks, babe,” Alex said, smiling at him. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Did everybody hear that?” John asked, looking around. “I have witnesses.” He laughed and kissed Alex’s cheek, and Alex grabbed his hand.

 _They’re happy,_ Eliza thought. _I want them to be happy._ She drank her tea and didn’t meet Angelica’s eyes.

“Hey, Alex and I have a date,” John announced, grinning.

“Why is that significant?” Gil asked, puzzled.

“It’s our first real date,” John responded.

Gil frowned. “That is very strange. Don’t people usually date before they become a couple?”

“Usually,” John said, “but Alex and I are backward. We’re going out to dinner on Friday.”

“Where?” Herc asked.

“Ciboulette.” John did his best to pronounce it in French.

“Oh, that is a very nice restaurant,” Gil said. “Monsieur and Madame Gérard took me there for my birthday. I highly recommend the sole.”

“Nice to have a recommendation.” Alex grinned at John. “It will be fun.”

Alex had to leave early and work on his paper, and his cheerful mood vanished as soon as he stepped outside in the sleet. The wind had picked up, and his face was struck by tiny pellets of ice as he fought his way against it. By the time he got to the dorm, he was miserable again. Writing was never hard for him, but he was having trouble synthesizing the information about the internship without allowing his sense of foreboding to seep into the essay. He had known as soon as he’d heard Blodman’s inaugural address that President Washington had been right. The new government was going to lead the country in the wrong direction, and somehow he had to put together an account of his weeks in the Capital without even hinting at that. Every time he tried to concentrate on the paper, his mind went to how he would go about organizing the kind of opposition that President had hinted at. He had to talk to John about it, but he wanted to wait until after their dinner date, let them have that one evening to enjoy before he started focusing on impending disaster. Even saying that to himself sounded ridiculously melodramatic, but he knew it was true. He’d talk to John and Angelica first, he decided, and take their advice, try to have some plan put together. Once they’d done that, he’d contact TJ and Ben Tallmadge and Frank Marion and see what they were doing. They all had to coordinate their strategies and their actions. Not now, though. Not until after Tuesday. He opened his laptop and started reviewing his notes.

 _Next Wednesday,_ he told himself. _A week from today._ They would start on Wednesday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> George and Martha Washington did not have any children together, but Martha had four from her first marriage. Two of them died before she married George, and her daughter Patsy Custis died at the age of seventeen. Her sole surviving child, John Parke Custis, becomes Parker Washington in this story. He married Eleanor Calvert, and they had seven children. I've only given them two.  
> Francis Marion's grandfather was from France, but I don't know for sure that he spoke French as an adult. He was, though, a terrible speller. The Marion family lived near the Laurenses and would almost certainly have been acquainted with them.  
> My physical description of the fishy-faced Vice-President George King is based on portraits of George III of England, not on anyone else, just in case you were wondering.  
> Thanks as always for comments and kudos. I love that I'm hearing from some new people who haven't read Provoke Outrage, and I'm interested to see how their view of the story is different from that of readers who know how it all ends. I always love hearing from everybody, so let me know what you think!


	16. Intemperate Indeed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex makes a really stupid mistake.

John was picking Alex up at the dorm at six. Their reservation was at seven, but he wanted to be sure they had time to deal with traffic. Ciboulette only held reservations for fifteen minutes, and it had taken weeks just to get one. John texted Alex that he was on his way, but got no response. He smiled and put his phone in his pocket. Alex didn’t always text back right away.

The weather was a little better than it had been earlier in the week. At least it wasn’t sleeting and the temperature was a few degrees higher. Maybe Alex wouldn’t feel it necessary to dress like he was about to race in the Iditarod. John smiled again. He didn’t really care if Alex wrapped himself up in blankets to go out to dinner. He was taking his boyfriend out on a date to a nice restaurant, and he couldn’t wait to see Alex sitting across the table from him, his dark eyes shining.

Alex still hadn’t texted back by the time he parked in front of the dorm, so he got out of the car and went up to his room. The door was locked, so he knocked on it. Nothing. “Yo, Alex!” he called loudly, knocking again.

A guy two rooms down stuck his head out into the hall. “You looking for Alex Hamilton?” he asked

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think he’s there. I wanted to see if he had notes from Rep Law about an hour ago, and he didn’t answer the door then either.”

John’s stomach did a funny sinking thing, and he told himself sternly not to get worried. He pulled out his phone and texted again. “Yo! I’m in the hall in front of your room, where you at?”

He leaned against the wall and waited. No response. He looked at the other guy, who had hovered by his door, waiting to see what happened.

“You worried he might be sick or something?” the guy asked. “I’m Marty Middicks, by the way. I don’t know Alex well, but I’m in a couple of his classes and he takes great notes. Smart as fuck.”

“Yeah. I’m John Laurens. We’re supposed to go out tonight …” He flushed.

“Sure,” Marty responded casually. “Maybe I should get the RA and see if he could check.”

John nodded. “Yeah, that would be good.”

Marty went to the end of the hall and disappeared down the stairs. John texted Alex again, then tried Herc.

“Have you seen Alex?”

Herc texted back immediately, “No, isn’t this your dinner date nite?”

“Yeah, I’m at his room, door locked, not answering texts.”

“WTF?”

“Somebody getting RA to open room.”

“Ok, let me know.”

By the time Marty returned with the RA, John had texted Alex three more times and had also contacted Angelica and Gil. Nobody had heard from him.

The RA was an unassuming guy with brown hair, a few years older than most of the dorm residents. “Hi,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Rob Townsend. Marty says you can’t get a response from Alex?”

John nodded, biting his lip. “I was supposed to pick him up at six. It’s almost six- thirty.”

“Okay, let’s check the room,” Rob said, slipping a key card into the slot. He opened the door halfway and stuck his head in. “Alex? You in here?”

The room was dark and silent, and John could feel his heart starting to race. He followed Rob into the room, turning on the overhead light as he entered. They looked in Alex’s room, in TJ’s former, empty room, in the bathroom. It was clear that there was no one there. John started to rifle through the desk.

Rob watched him for a minute, then asked, “You his boyfriend?”

John nodded, not looking at him.

“You guys have a fight or something?”

“No! Fuck, no. We’re supposed to be going out for dinner for Alex’s birthday. I can’t …” He stopped and shoved his hair back, and then finally faced Rob. “Where could he be?”

“Is there anybody who might know?”

“I called everybody already,” John told him, his voice shaky.

Rob shrugged. “He’s not even an hour late,” he said. “Maybe he got the time wrong or something.”

John shook his head. “No, he knew the time.” He thought of something and dialed a number. “Hey, Betsy, it’s John. I can’t find Alex. Has he been in today? Or maybe talked to Patty or Mark?” He waited while she checked, and Rob could see by his face that there was no news from whoever he was calling.

“Does he work?” Rob asked. “Could he maybe have gotten called in to work unexpectedly?”

“He works at the library,” John explained. “They don’t exactly have emergencies.”

“Maybe call them anyway?”

John shrugged impatiently, but he was starting to look up the number on his phone when he heard Marty talking to somebody in the hall. He went to the door and found Herc standing there about to knock. His face fell.

“So no news yet?” Herc asked, pretending to be casual.

John shook his head. “How come you …?” he began.

“Eliza called me a while after you texted. I was working on a project for textiles, so I thought maybe I should come over.” He paused and looked at John’s pale face. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” His voice caught. “Ah, fuck, I don’t know. I mean, where the hell is he?”

Rob was still standing there. “Try the library,” he said again.

“Okay, I guess.” John started to punch something in on his phone, and then he suddenly thrust it at Herc. “Can you do it?”

“Sure.” Herc took the phone and looked over John’s head at Rob. “I’m Herc Mulligan,” he said, “friend of John and Alex.”

“Rob Townsend. I’m the RA for the dorm. Marty out there came and got me."

Herc nodded in acknowledgement and tapped in the library number on John’s phone. He sighed as he went through the usual menu until a human being finally picked up. He identified himself and explained that he was a friend of Alex’s.

“He had something planned for tonight and he didn’t show up,” he went on. “He hasn’t answered texts or calls, and we’re getting a little concerned. I know he wasn’t scheduled to work, but I thought I’d check anyway. Okay, sure, thanks.” He turned to John and Rob. “I’m on hold. The girl who answered the phone said she’s pretty sure Alex wasn’t working, but she’s checking with her supervisor to see if something came up.”

John nodded, his bottom lip between his teeth. _He’s fine,_ he told himself. _There’s got to be some simple explanation. He’s got to be safe somewhere._ He tried to push all thoughts of accidents out of his head. What if Alex had gone out to run an errand and had been mugged and robbed, and was lying unconscious in an alley in the cold? What if he’d been hit by a car and had somehow lost his wallet and phone and was in a hospital, unable to communicate? What if …?

“Yes, I’m here,” Herc said. John saw his face change. “I’m sorry, what? Since when? Okay, thanks. Thank you very much. No, no, that’s all right. I appreciate it. Yeah, thanks. Bye.”

He motioned to John and put his arm around him, pulled him in close so no one else would hear what he had to say. What he wanted to say was _Fuck him, John, he doesn’t deserve you._ What he said instead was “He’s at the library, John, but not for his job. He’s working on a paper.”

John stared at him, his heart in his eyes. He kept shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe it, and Herc pulled him close and finally – _Fuck Alex!_ – kissed his hair.

*          *          *          *          *

Herc wasn’t going to let John go confront Alex alone, so he sat next to him while John drove the Acura the short distance to the library. Herc followed him as he went in, and he seemed to know exactly where he was going. It seemed Alex had a favorite carrel, second floor, in the back, away from most of the activity. Not that John explained any of that at the time. Herc just stayed ten feet behind him.

Alex didn’t even notice them approaching. His head was down, and he was typing on his laptop. John came up next to him and kicked his chair, nearly knocking him out of it.

“What the hell?” Alex yelled, as he finally looked up. He had dark circles under his eyes, and he squinted as if he was having trouble focusing.

“You have anything to say to me?” John asked, breathing hard.

“What – John, what’s wrong?”

“What’s _wrong?_ ” John repeated incredulously, his voice rising. “You’re asking me what’s fucking _wrong?”_

Alex stared at him for a minute, and then realization seemed to dawn on him. “Oh, shit,” he said. “Is it Friday? Is that today?”

“Jesus fucking Christ almighty!” John yelled. “Yes, you stupid son of a bitch, it’s Friday, but hey, don’t let that bother you. Never mind that I’ve been searching half of fucking New York City trying to find you since six o’clock because we had a fucking _reservation_.”

John’s voice was getting louder, and a few people were standing near the top of the stairs, observing and whispering to one another. Herc looked back and forth between the spectators and John, watchful.

“Who the fucking hell do you think you are that you can treat me like this?” John continued. “I was scared, do you understand that? I was scared that something had fucking _happened_ to you. I was scared that you were hurt or maybe dead, God damn you. I couldn’t fucking _find_ you. Do you have any idea at all what that felt like?” He took a breath. “No, don’t even try to answer that, because I already know. You don’t know what it felt like because you’ve never cared enough about anybody in your life to understand.”

“John, _mi amor,”_ Alex began, reaching out for him.

“Don’t you dare,” John spat, his voice dropping to something Herc had never heard before. “Don’t you dare call me that. Don’t you dare touch me.”

Herc looked over his shoulder and saw that quite a crowd was assembling. “We should go,” he said to John, trying to keep his voice nonchalant.

John ignored him and took a step toward Alex, who was still trying to talk. John leaned in close to Alex’s face. “Fuck you, Alex.” John began quietly, but his voice rose as he went on. “Fuck you and your papers and your projects and your goddam high-and-mighty mother-fucking ego. Fuck your ambition to rule the world. Let me tell you something: you’re going to have to do it all by yourself because if this is how you treat people you claim to love, you will have nobody, do you hear me? Nobody! You will live alone, and you will fucking die alone!”

Herc figured he had about five minutes before either the police arrived or John got his hands around Alex’s throat. He grabbed John’s arm and pulled him back. He could feel him trembling.

“Come on, John,” he said softly.

John tried to shake him off, but Herc wouldn’t let go. “Come on,” he said again, his voice still gentle. John took a step back.

“That’s it,” Herc coaxed. “Let’s just leave.” He put his arm around John’s shoulders, holding him tightly.

“Herc,” Alex appealed, his voice rough, “Herc, can you …”

“Fuck off, Alex,” Herc said, not even turning around. He held John firmly against him as they walked past the crowd. He kept his face turned away and ignored whatever they were saying as he carefully guided John down the stairs and out to the car.

*          *          *          *          *

By Saturday afternoon, the story was all over campus, of course. John refused to leave his apartment, so Herc and Gil were there, making sure he was eating something and, not incidentally, keeping him from going out and killing Alex. First thing that morning, John had rampaged through the apartment, gathering up every single thing that belonged to Alex, from his shirts and his toothbrush to a couple of pens that he had been using. He had shoved everything into a few bags and had been about to leave with them when Herc got there.

“Whoa, where you going?” Herc asked.

“I’m taking Alex’s stuff over to the dorm,” John muttered sullenly.

“Nope, not a good idea,” Herc said, pulling the bags out of his hand. “You don’t want to go see Alex now.”

“The fuck I don’t,” John argued.

“It's probably better if you don’t go to the dorm.”

John stood still, chewing on his lip.

“You sleep at all last night?” Herc inquired gently.

John shook his head.

“How about if you go lie down?”

John kept shaking his head. “I don’t want to,” he said childishly.

“At least, sit down on the couch,” Herc suggested. “I’ll make some tea.”

Once John stopped moving and drank some tea with sugar, he started to doze off, and Herc texted Gil to come over. Gil arrived just before lunchtime, bringing sensible sandwiches instead of junk food. He persuaded John to eat turkey on whole wheat and drink another cup of tea, and then Herc was finally able to get him to go to bed.

“There’s a hole in the bedroom wall,” Herc remarked to Gil when he came back out.

_“Comment?”_

“Fist-sized.”

_“Merde.”_

“Could you speak English?” Herc asked irritably.

“Sorry, sometimes I don’t think. Shall I make some coffee?”

They sat silently drinking the coffee for a while, and then Gil said, “I should take those bags of Alex’s things to him. I think that would make it a little easier for John.”

Herc nodded. “Yeah, get that shit out of his apartment. It will only make John feel worse if it’s still here when he wakes up.”

Gil drank the last of his coffee and picked up the bags. He hesitated at the door and looked back at Herc, who was staring into his mug and brooding. He wondered if Herc thought this meant he’d have a chance with John now. He didn’t think that was likely, but he wasn’t going to say anything – not yet, anyway.

Alex was in his dorm room, looking, if possible, even worse than John. The shadows under his eyes looked like bruises, and it was obvious that he hadn’t slept or showered. He opened the door with a cup of coffee in his hand and stood there looking blankly at Gil.

Gil held up the bags so he could see them. “John sent these,” he said.

Alex frowned and opened the door wider so Gil could come in, but he didn’t say anything. He went into the kitchen area and poured another cup of coffee. Gil put the bags down on the table.

“What is that shit?” Alex asked.

“Your things,” Gil said patiently, “from John’s apartment.”

“What things?”

Gil opened a bag and began showing him. “Your Puerto Rican flag tee shirt, your gray hoodie, your brown scarf, some socks, a spiral notebook with half the pages ripped out – why are you asking me? These are your things. You should know what they are.”

Alex rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache. “Why did John send them?”

Gil took a breath. “Are you asking me a deliberately stupid question?”

“No, really, why did John send you over with my stuff?”

“He didn’t. John’s asleep – at least, I hope he’s still asleep, but he cleared out all your stuff, as you call it, this morning. He was going to bring it over himself, but Herc stopped him.”

“Why?”

“Seriously? I think Herc was concerned for your safety.”

Alex snorted. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Anyway, what’s it got to do with Herc?”

Gil got a mug and poured himself a cup of coffee. _“Tu souffres de l’amnésie?”_

“What are you talking about? I’m fine. I just can’t understand how this is any of your business or Herc’s, and why John isn’t here himself if there’s something we need to talk about.”

Gil sipped the coffee and looked at Alex over the rim of the cup. “John does not want to talk to you. He wants to hit you.”

“Oh, please,” Alex said, waving his hand in dismissal. He sat down at the table. “I know he was upset, but it’ll blow over in a couple of days. John understands how important that paper was. I had to get it in by midnight.”

Gil nodded. “He does indeed understand that. I believe you made it quite clear that the paper was much more important to you than John was.”

Incredibly, Alex seemed shocked by this. “That’s ridiculous.”

Gil added some more coffee to his mug and sat down across from Alex. “ _Bien,_ I’m going to talk to you as if I believe what you’re saying. Maybe you even believe it; I don’t know. You need to listen to me.” He gave Alex a minute to focus his attention, then added sharply, _“Écoute-moi!”_

 _“D’accord,”_ Alex muttered.

“You know how long John has been planning for this special dinner. You know it was very important to him, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” Alex conceded, but he wasn’t looking directly at Gil.

“Then tell me, please, why it is that you managed to ‘forget’ about it.”

Alex shrugged irritably and shifted in his chair. “I don’t know. I just forgot. It happens.”

 _“J'suis pas imbécile._ If something is important to someone you love, you pay attention to it. You remember.”

“Oh, okay, thanks for the advice ...”

Alex’s response was interrupted by pounding on the door.

 _“Ah, merde,”_ Gil muttered and went to answer it. Angelica shoved him out of her way and went directly to Alex.

“You moron!” she yelled. “You stupid fucking jackass.”

Gil looked at Eliza, who was still standing at the threshold, tears in her eyes. He put his arm around her and pulled her into the room, aware of people walking by extra casually and doors opening down the hall.

“Come in,” he said to her with a faint smile. “It seems we are all here to tell Alex he’s an idiot.”

Eliza leaned into him, her face against his shoulder, and he held her while she cried. Alex was like a storm, he thought, fascinating and exciting, but also uncontrollable and destructive. He understood the attraction that Alex held for both John and Eliza. He was straight, so it didn’t affect him in the same way, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of it. It was futile to wish that either John or Eliza would become immune to it; the responsibility was on Alex to treat others with the respect they deserved.

He stroked Eliza’s hair for a while and then got her some tissues and put the kettle on for tea.

Angelica hadn’t stopped yelling. Gil made tea and let her have her turn. While she was winding down, he texted Herc and was relieved to find that John was still sleeping. He poured some tea for Angelica and took it to her. She was leaning forward with both hands on the table, breathing fast. She hadn’t even taken off her gloves. Gil offered her the cup, and she stood up to accept it.

“You should take your coat off,” he suggested.

She nodded, and did, stuffing her gloves in the pockets. Eliza stood a little distance away, her elbow on the kitchen counter.

Alex was still being obnoxious. “You have no idea how important this paper is!” he snapped at Angelica. “I’m sorry I hurt John’s feelings, okay, but I don’t see why he sent a fucking committee over here instead of coming himself if he had a problem.”

“He didn’t send us,” Angelica told him. “He doesn’t even know we’re here.”

“Oh, so you just appointed yourselves his – what? Guardians? Representatives?”

“Friends,” Gil said quietly.

Alex was barely paying attention. “What?” he asked.

“We’re here because we’re John’s friends, and we’re also your friends, although you don’t seem to understand that.”

There was silence in the room.

Eliza spoke first. “Alex, we’re only here because we care about you and John. Herc’s at John’s apartment for the same reason.”

“If you care so much about me, maybe you could stop acting like I’m some kind of criminal,” Alex retorted.

“Do you have any idea how scared John was last night?” Angelica asked, trying to keep her voice calm.

“Yeah, I do, because you’ve told me about fifty times already. He’ll be fine in a couple days.”

“No, Alex, he won’t,” Eliza said, her voice uncharacteristically cold. “You know better than anybody how hard it was for John to trust you, to open up to you. He let you in, let himself get close to you, and you blew off this dinner he’d been planning for weeks to do your fucking homework. He won’t be fine.” She turned to her sister. “Ange, I’m going now.”

“Wait for me,” Angelica said. “You’re right. This is a waste of time.”

They were both out the door before Alex could react. He looked up at Gil. “You have anything else to add?” he asked defiantly.

“No,” Gil responded. “I think they covered it.” He picked up his jacket and left.

*          *          *          *          *

Dr. Wilson sat tapping the eraser end of his pencil against the papers in his hand.

“I don’t understand, Alex,” he said. “This is so far below the quality of your usual work that I just don’t see how it could have happened.”

Alex squirmed in his chair on the other side of the desk. “I’m sorry, sir,” he began, but Dr. Wilson waved his pencil at him.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Alex. I don’t want an apology from you, I want an explanation. Why am I holding a badly organized, rambling essay that doesn’t seem to have any clear focus at all? If I didn’t already know about the internship program, I certainly wouldn’t understand it from reading this.”

“Sir, there were some personal problems that came up on Friday …”

“ _Personal_ _problems?_ Are you seriously presenting that as an excuse?” He shook his head. “Maybe Barron was right. Maybe you are too young. Maybe we should have sent the Schuyler girl.”

Dr. Frederick Barron was the senior and highly respected professor of political science who apparently had favored Angelica for the internship. Alex felt his face burning. “Sir, I’m sorry.”

Dr. Wilson put down his pencil. “I have no doubt of that,” he said. “Unfortunately that is meaningless. I’m canceling your class presentation for tomorrow.”

“But I’ve been working on it all weekend,” Alex protested.

“I don’t really care. I’m not going to waste class time inflicting this drivel on my students.” He took off his reading glasses and looked Alex directly in the eye. “You will get a C for the work, which is generous of me, but that’s not important. I know everything about the internship program, do you understand me? Everything, as do the other professors involved. This gives me real apprehension about how you may handle future responsibilities far more critical than classwork.”

Alex’s face went pale. “Dr. Wilson, please believe me when I say that I am totally committed to everything that was discussed in the Capital,” he implored. “There is no cause for any concern about how I will meet my responsibilities.”

“Well, I hope that’s true,” Dr. Wilson responded. “If we were mistaken in selecting you, we have only ourselves to blame, and I suppose a ninety percent success rate would be acceptable. No,” he added, as Alex tried to say something. “You’re dismissed now. I will see you in class tomorrow, as usual.”

Alex walked out of the office blindly and ducked into the nearest rest room, feeling as if he would fall apart if anybody so much as looked at him. He shut himself in a stall and leaned on the door, tears running down his face, as he struggled to get control of his emotions. He was devastated that Dr. Wilson was disappointed in him – no, worse than that, no longer trusted him. He regretted having selected him for the internship that had turned out to be something so much more serious than an internship. It might take a long time, but he vowed he would somehow regain that trust. He blew his nose on some toilet paper, then went to the sink and splashed cold water on his face. He examined himself in the mirror and realized that he looked like hell. He tried to remember how long it had been since he’d actually eaten something, and he couldn’t recall. He rewrapped his scarf around his neck and headed for Betsy’s.

He should have known better. The instant he walked in the door, he saw John and Herc at their usual table in the back. Angelica was at the counter waiting for her coffee. Patty and Mark were both working. Everyone turned to look at him, and then, as if they had practiced it, deliberately turned away, ignoring him. John and Herc continued whatever conversation they’d been having. Mark handed Angelica a cup of coffee. She thanked him and then said something to Patty that made her laugh.

Alex turned on his heel and went out the door. He ate a solitary meal in a corner of the cafeteria without tasting a thing. Back in the dorm, he tried to sleep, but just as he had for the last few nights, he lay awake. It was worse now because he had seen the contempt on John’s face in that brief instant when he had turned to look at him. He knew that look. It was the same expression John had when he talked about his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Martin Middicks was a New York Loyalist. In this story he has some rather disreputable friends.  
> Robert Townsend, as many of you probably know, was a member of the Culper spy ring. We'll be seeing more of him.
> 
> As for Alex, and the mess he has created ... well, you'll just have to wait and see.
> 
> I'm grateful as always for comments and kudos.


	17. I Don't Say No

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex continues his cascade of bad decisions, while Eliza tries to figure out how to help him.

It was Wednesday. Alex sat on the side of the bed rubbing his eyes and trying to remember why Wednesday was important. He had three classes on Wednesdays, and he had done the work for all of them. He wasn’t scheduled to work, it wasn’t anybody’s birthday or …

Oh.

Shit.

He was going to talk to John and Angelica on Wednesday. At least that had been the plan a week ago. He was going to tell them what President Washington had said. He was going to ask for their help.

He rubbed his eyes some more and went to the kitchen for coffee. Maybe he should eat something. He scrounged around in the cupboard and found half of a stale bagel and tried to chew on it. He wondered what John was doing. He wondered if Herc was still there. He thought again about the text he’d sent John on Monday after his devastating talk with Dr. Wilson and then seeing John at Betsy’s. He’d dashed the text off impulsively, angrily: “Thanks for all your HELP with my paper. Lowest grade I ever got.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have done that. He threw the bagel in the trash and went to take a shower.

At the end of Rep Law, Marty Middicks came up to talk to him instead of leaving right away like he usually did.

“You doing okay?” Marty asked.

“Yeah, sure.”

“I mean, I know there was some trouble …”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay, good. I just – a friend of mine is having a party on Saturday, and I thought maybe you’d like to go, you know, get out of your room for a while.”

“Yeah? Yeah, maybe. Who’s your friend?”

“His name’s Sam Seabury. He’s got a really nice apartment off campus, and let me tell you, he throws great parties.”

Alex had never been much of a partier. Seeing his cousin die of an overdose had made him wary of anything addictive. He’d gotten drunk a few times, smoked weed and done some pills like everybody else in high school, but he hated feeling like he wasn’t in control of his own mind or body. Right now, though, getting drunk enough to forget everything sounded like a great idea. He handed Marty his phone. “Put in your number, and then text me the address. Sounds like fun.”

Marty gave him a grin. “You look like you could use some fun.”

Since he knew there was no food in his room, Alex went to the cafeteria for lunch. He saw Joe Allicocke and Deb Sampson at a table and approached them cautiously. “Okay if I sit here?”

“Sure,” Deb said unenthusiastically, moving her backpack.

Joe seemed a little more sympathetic. “How are you doing?”

“Is that a generic ‘How are you?’ or a specific ‘How are you after breaking John Laurens’s heart, you jerk?’” Alex asked drily.

Joe choked back a laugh. “More of the second than the first, actually, but really, are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” Alex shrugged. “I mean, these things happen, you know? People go out together for a while and then they break up.”

“Yeah, it’s just …”

“What?”

“From what I’ve heard, you didn’t just break up with John, you broke up with all your friends.”

“Their choice, not mine.” Alex was done talking about it. He ate his sandwich and left as soon as he was done.

It was good to know that at least a couple of people on campus were still speaking to him. It’s not like Gil and Herc and the Schuyler sisters were the only people he could ever be friends with. He’d just been invited to a party, after all. There were people who wanted to get to know him better. Saturday couldn’t come soon enough.

*          *          *          *          *

“I talked to Mom,” Eliza said to Angelica at lunch.

“And what did Mom say?” Angelica asked. She didn’t sound pleased.

“Just – you know, don’t write him off. That we should give him a chance to apologize.” She stirred her tomato soup and sipped a spoonful of it.

“Alex Hamilton apologize? You’re kidding, right?”

“He’s not a bad person, Ange,” Eliza said quietly.

Angelica reached out for her sister’s hand. “Eliza, I don’t want to watch you break your heart over him. It was bad enough knowing how it hurt you when he was with John.”

“No, it didn’t hurt me. Don’t think that. I want him to be happy, and I want John to be happy. I was a little sad, maybe, but not hurt, because he wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

“But now he is. Did you see the text he sent John?” Angelica stabbed her salad as if she was sticking the fork into Alex himself.

Eliza nodded wordlessly.

“It’s hard to keep saying that he’s not a bad person when he does shit like that.”

“I know. I just think – I think he’s mad at himself, and he takes it out on everybody else.”

“Eliza, you give him too much credit. There’s such a thing as being too nice, you know.”

Eliza didn’t answer. There was no point in arguing with Angelica, certainly not over Alex Hamilton, but that didn’t mean she agreed with her sister. She was sure that Alex was a good person at heart, and she hated the resentment and tension that had come with John and Alex’s break-up. As soon as Angelica left, she texted Herc.

*          *          *          *          *

Sam Seabury’s apartment made John’s look like a closet. It had views over the Hudson through what was practically a wall of windows. The floors were polished wood, and the walls were painted a pale slate gray. Alex looked around the room for Marty and was relieved to see him over by the buffet table with a dark-haired girl who looked vaguely familiar. When he saw her up close, he remembered who she was.

“Sylvia, hi, how you doing?” he said awkwardly to Eliza’s roommate.

“Alex?” Sylvia wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“Marty invited me,” Alex said, gesturing toward Marty, who had turned to talk to a skinny guy with floppy brown hair.

Marty turned around when he heard his name. “You know my girlfriend?” he asked Alex.

“Yeah, we’ve met,” Alex said. “I know her roommate.”

“Oh, right, right, you’re friends with the Schuylers.”

“Mm,” Alex responded noncommittally, not sure if he was still friends with them or not.

“Hey, Sam,” Marty continued, grabbing the tall guy by the arm, “This is Alex Hamilton, the one I told you about.”

“Hi, Alex,” Sam Seabury said, tossing his head to flip the hair out of his eyes. “Glad you could be here. Any friend of Marty’s is always welcome.” He waved vaguely at the crowd. “Just introduce yourself.”

Alex helped himself to a beer and a few things from the buffet and then walked around with his plate, since Marty and Sylvia appeared to be having one of those earnest couples conversations. The room was so crowded that it was hard to move so he found an empty bit of wall to lean on, hoping he’d see somebody else he knew. He didn’t, and more people kept coming in, most of them heading directly to Sam’s well-stocked bar. Alex followed the crowd and poured himself some vodka over ice, threw in a slice of lime and went back to his wall. There was music playing and the room was getting smoky. Alex watched Sam Seabury walk around and make small talk to people like a politician. He kept doing that hair-flipping thing, and Alex was trying to decide if it was a nervous habit or an affectation. Either way, he found it annoying. After a while, he went back and got another vodka and lime and tried leaning on a different part of the wall, over by the windows. This time somebody at least smiled at him as he passed her. She shook back her long dark curls and looked him up and down. He smiled back and raised his glass a little. She turned around, gave him a glance over her shoulder and walked away.

Well, that sucked.

He leaned on the wall again, thinking maybe it was time to go. He stared out the window at the river and the lights, trying very hard not to think about John, not to think about being with friends he could actually talk to. Maybe he should call somebody, somebody like Gil. Gil was always calm. Maybe if he talked to Gil, he could find his way back.

“Did I guess right?” she asked, and he nearly jumped.

The girl with the long dark curls was standing there, holding out a drink. He put his empty glass down on the floor, took the one she offered, and sipped it.

“Yeah, how did you know?”

She shrugged. “You look like a vodka guy.”

“Oh, really? What does a vodka guy look like?”

“Oh, you know,” she said, stepping closer. “Cute. Kind of shy. Pretty eyes.”

“Is that so?”

“Mm-hm.” She took a sip of her own drink, looking at him over the rim of the glass. Her eyes were golden-brown, like topazes. She was wearing a fluffy scoop-neck sweater in almost the same shade of gold.

“And what kind of girl are you?” he asked.

The topaz eyes opened wide. “What do you mean?”

He motioned toward her glass.

“Oh,” she said, pretending to have misunderstood. “Lemon drop martini.”

“Mm.” That sounded awful, but it would probably be rude to say so. Alex was proud of himself for not saying something rude. _I can’t be very drunk if I’m being polite_ , he thought.

The girl put her finger on his chest and slid it down a little. “What’s your name?” she asked.

“My name is Alexander Hamilton. Everybody calls me Alex.” He wanted her to do that thing with her finger some more.

“I’m Maria.”

“Well, hi, Maria. Nice to meet you. Do you go to Columbia?” He couldn’t remember having seen her around.

“Mm-mm. I’m just a friend of a friend of Sam’s. Sam has lots of friends.” She sipped some more of her martini, and Alex decided that she was at least as drunk as he was.

“I’ll bet, if he throws parties like this all the time.”

She leaned forward and he could see that the bra under the fluffy sweater was edged in black lace. “I love parties,” she confided, “but I don’t know too many people here tonight. I was getting bored.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“We could leave,” Maria suggested, looking up at him. When she tilted her head, her curls fell down her back again, and there was something about the curve of her throat that Alex found very attractive.

“Just leave?” he asked, still looking at her throat. Her skin was beautiful. He reached out and ran his hand along her jaw and then down the lovely curve to her shoulder.

She leaned into his hand and smiled at him. “You could walk me home. I don’t live far.”

She lived a block away in a very different building. Her apartment was a studio on the second floor, but Alex barely noticed. She was unbuttoning his shirt before he got the door closed, and then she slid her hands down his chest, scraping her nails lightly against his skin. He twisted his hands in her curls and began to kiss her, not at all gently, but she didn’t seem to want gentleness. She pushed herself against him, her arms around his neck, and then pulled him across the room to the open futon that was apparently her bed. Alex kicked his shoes off and unzipped his jeans as she pulled her sweater over her head. The black bra was all lace, and she dropped her skirt to the floor to show the matching thong. Alex threw his jeans on the floor and pushed her down, his hands filling with black lace. She was whimpering and grinding herself against him, and Alex had just enough awareness to say, “Condom?”

She stretched to pull open a drawer in the bedside table and shoved it into his hand, and then he was inside her, and she was hot and wet and moving with him, her legs spread wide and her nails digging into his back. He thrust as hard as he could, gasping, and he heard her wailing, and it was over. He rolled off her and lay panting next to her. She curled up on her side, facing him, smiling. He smiled back, but he was so tired now that he could barely keep his eyes open. The last thing he was conscious of before he went to sleep was her hand against his cheek.

He woke up with a pounding headache and a moment of panic before he remembered where he was. Maria was gone and the apartment was silent. He sat up cautiously, pain stabbing through his head, and then went into the tiny bathroom where he was grateful to find some Advil. He took three and gulped down a couple of glasses of water, then washed his face and swished and spit some of Maria’s mouthwash. It didn’t help much. He checked the kitchenette, but found no coffee. There was, however, a note from Maria: _Had to go to work. Thanks for last night. Lock the door when you leave. Love, Maria._ He had thought it would be spelled _Mariah_ , but apparently not. There was a little heart, and then _P.S. put my number in your phone,_ followed by ten digits. He shrugged. Why not, after all? He entered her number in his phone, realizing he had no idea what her last name was. He gathered up his clothes, which were still strewn across the floor, and got dressed, noticing that his good white shirt had dirty streaks on it. He did his best to brush them off. The apartment wasn’t exactly spotless. Well, neither was his dorm room, so who was he to judge?

He locked the door, thinking Maria was crazy to just have a simple doorknob lock in New York City, but then again, it didn’t look like she had much to steal. It the morning light, the apartment was not only grubby but distinctly shabby.

Thankfully entering the first coffee shop he came to, he ordered two large coffees and a cupcake, then settled at a table. His phone battery was low and he didn’t have a charger with him, so after checking his messages, he shut it off. With no phone to distract him and the pounding in his head only slightly diminished by the Advil and coffee, he uncomfortably considered the series of decisions he had made the night before. He hadn’t much liked Sam Seabury and his crowd, and getting drunk had definitely been a bad idea. Going home with Maria was a little different. She was pretty and charming, and the sex had been good – at least as far as he could remember. Maybe he’d see her again.

*          *          *          *          *

It had been more than a week since what they were referring to as the break-up, so Herc was okay with leaving John alone for a while. He and Gil had sort of been taking turns babysitting, and John was almost as withdrawn as he had been six months ago. Herc, logically enough, blamed Alex. That’s what he was trying to explain to Eliza.

“I don’t want to talk to him,” he declared flatly, breaking his scone into crumbs without even realizing what he was doing.

“I’m not saying he and John are going to get back together,” Eliza said, “but I can’t stand all this tension between them, and between Alex and the rest of us.”

“He made his bed.” Herc wasn’t giving an inch.

“I know he must be sorry.”

Herc snorted skeptically. “Why don’t you talk to him?”

“I might. I’ve been thinking about it. It’s just … you know, it could be misunderstood, coming from me.” She kept her head down, staring at her tea.

“Still?” he asked, but not unkindly.

She nodded and then looked up at him. “There’s so much good in him, Herc. He doesn’t know how to take care of himself. He drives himself to exhaustion and then makes stupid decisions that cause disasters like this, but there’s no malice in him. I know there isn’t.”

“You don’t think there was any malice in that text he sent John?”

“No. I think it was his last defense.”

Herc gulped some coffee and leaned back in his chair. “Well, if you want to take on the job of being Alex’s nanny, you go right ahead, but it’s not something I’m interested in.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “Look, Eliza, I see what you’re saying, really. I’ve lost my temper and said things I’ve regretted; probably everybody has, but Alex goes way farther than most people. If he doesn’t learn a little self-discipline soon, that brilliant political career everybody has talked about isn’t going to happen.”

“I know.” She gave a crooked little smile. “Maybe I’m trying to save him for the country’s future,” she said. “Anyway, how’s John?”

“Not okay, really. He’s not talking much.”

“Is he going to classes?”

“Yeah, mostly. He’s doing a lot of drawing. I think it distracts him, but it seems he’s either drawing or sleeping.” He swiped his hand across his face. “I miss his smile.”

Eliza’s eyes filled with tears. “We have to do something.”

“You do whatever you feel is right,” Herc said, his voice gentle, “but please don’t expect me to help expose John to more hurt. He’s been hurt enough for ten lifetimes.”

“I understand. I’ll – if I decide to do anything, I’ll let you know.”

“Can I give you some advice?”

“What?”

“Listen to your sister.”

Eliza looked away. “She’s not always right.”

“She loves you.”

“I know, and I love her. I love her a lot. But she’s not the only person I love.”

*          *          *          *          *

Alex was determined that he would get an A in every class he was taking to help make up for the C on his internship paper – which he was well aware he deserved. He had always expected to graduate Summa Cum Laude, and he was pretty sure he could still do it. Classes weren’t hard for him. He retained everything he read easily, and could recall his professors’ lectures almost verbatim without taking notes. Even so, he took notes, often writing his own commentary in the margins to use later for essays or opinion papers. On Thursday, he answered a question in Dr. Wilson’s class and explained his point so well that Dr. Wilson nodded and said, “Good.”

It was a huge relief and gave him hope that he might be able to regain his professor’s respect. He went back to his dorm room feeling less anxious than he had in the last two weeks. Maybe he was going to be okay. He boiled some water and tossed in a pack of ramen noodles, stirred it around and then took it over to the table. It wasn’t much of a dinner, but he hated going to the cafeteria. He felt like the misfit kid in middle school that nobody wanted to eat lunch with. Oh, Joe and Deb and Johan would still let him sit at their table, but they weren’t exactly welcoming. As for Betsy’s, he hadn’t been back since that first Monday. The only person being really friendly to him at the moment was Marty Middicks, and he didn’t like him much. Marty seemed to him to be just another shallow rich kid, more interested in parties than in political science classes.

He was trying hard to convince himself that things were going better, but whatever façade he presented to the outside, he understood himself well enough to know that he was unhappy. He missed John desperately, missed his warmth at night, missed his beautiful face and his open affection. Was it only two weeks ago that he had joked with John, saying he didn’t deserve him? He hadn’t really been joking. He had worked hard to win John’s trust, had done everything he could to appeal to the warm heart that he knew John was afraid to risk – and then, when he got what he wanted, he’d been careless with it. He’d taken John for granted, assumed John would always forgive him. He could say he’d learned his lesson, but what good would that do? He was sure there was zero chance of John’s even talking to him, let along forgiving him.

It wasn’t just John that he’d lost, either. That was the worst, but all of their friends had sided with John, and he knew they were right to do so. Still, he missed them too. He’d spent way too much time alone growing up, and he had loved the idea of having real friends. He thought about Christmas in Albany, and the Schuylers actually getting him a stocking with his name on it. They were kind to him because he was their daughters’ friend, and Catherine had told him to leave the stocking there so that he could hang it again next year. It had been the best Christmas he’d ever had, and he had looked forward to going back again. He wondered what Philip and Catherine had been told about his behavior. Knowing Angelica, they’d heard all the details. He felt himself flush as he thought about it, embarrassed that two people he respected so much would think badly of him. He couldn’t blame them if they did. He couldn’t even blame Angelica for telling them. He knew he was the only one to blame. He also knew that there was no way to repair the damage. He was the one who had broken everything, and now there was no way to make it right.

He put his dirty bowl in the sink and called Maria.

*          *          *          *          *

“Herc won’t talk to him,” Eliza said to Gil.

They were in his apartment, a roomy one-bedroom in an older building, a little farther off campus than John’s.

“And you think I should?” Gil asked skeptically.

“Somebody has to.”

“No, nobody has to.” He poured two cups of tea and added a little milk to hers. He put the cups on the table along with a plate of cookies.

“You’re a very good host,” she said, doing her best to smile. She nibbled on a cookie.

Gil didn’t say anything for a while, then he began in French. “ _Ma chère, Alex est impulsif, imprévisible …”_

 _Impulsif_ was easy, but “What’s _imprévisible?_ ” she asked.

“Sorry,” he said, “it means one can’t see what he might do next.”

“Unpredictable?”

 _“Oui, c’est ça._ And so, even if I talk to him, it doesn’t help because I don’t know what he will be doing.” Gil pushed his hair back impatiently. “I’m sorry, the verbs are all wrong.”

“You mean you don’t know what he might do.”

“Yes. I could make it worse.”

“I don’t see how it could be worse,” Eliza said sadly.

Gil shook his head. “We don’t know. Now, maybe, there is some possibility of _réconciliation,_ but if I were to talk to Alex and he gets angry, it could be worse. We are all too close to both him and John.”

“So you think somebody who doesn’t know them both would be better.”

“ _À vrai dire,_ I think it would be better if we say nothing and let him come to his own decision, but if you do not agree, then, yes, somebody who is not friends with them both. If Alex had a brother, that would be good.”

“Well, he doesn’t. He doesn’t have anybody. Now he doesn’t even have any friends.” She reached into her purse for tissues.

“Eliza, I think we all want to still be his friends, but he is the one who is at fault. He has not tried to contact anyone, has he?”

She shook her head.

“The decision must be his. He has made a bad decision. Now it is his responsibility to make a good decision.”

*          *          *          *          *

Maria was fun. She was up for anything Alex suggested, whether it was getting ice cream or going to a museum. He figured out pretty quickly that she liked ice cream better than museums, but she was always willing to go. If he asked her what she wanted to do, she preferred dinner out, usually at a place that Alex couldn’t afford, so he would negotiate with her until they found a place that was acceptable to both of them. Maria didn’t seem to learn though, because next time he asked, she’d suggest Tavern on the Green as if he was carrying a thousand dollars in his wallet. She liked Broadway shows too, it seemed, and tickets were way out of Alex’s price range. Maria didn’t have any money either; she was a manicurist, and it took almost all her earnings to pay the rent on her shabby studio apartment. Alex had no idea how she paid for the supply of vodka she always seemed to have on hand, but he didn't ask. No matter where they went or what they did, her apartment was where they almost always ended up, and there too, Maria was agreeable to whatever Alex wanted. Not that he objected to that, but even after a few weeks, he didn’t feel that he knew her very well. He’d found out her last name was Lewis, but she didn’t talk about herself, and if he asked questions, she side-stepped them. It was no big deal, really. After all, what they had wasn’t what he would call a relationship.

“Can we go see a show?” Maria asked on a Friday afternoon. The weather was unseasonably warm for late February, and they were taking a walk in Central Park.

“Sure,” Alex responded. “You up for superheroes?”

“I don’t mean a movie, silly,” she said, giving him a sideways glance from under her lashes, “I mean a real show. We still haven’t gone to one.”

“You mean a Broadway show?”

“Mm-hmm. A musical.” Her eyes sparkled at the thought.

“Look, Maria, I don’t know how many ways to say this, but I don’t have the money for Broadway shows. The only spending money I have is from working in the library, and that’s not much.”

She giggled. “You’re so silly.”

“No, really, I work in the school library.”

“But you go to Columbia.”

“Right, but that doesn’t mean I have money.”

She stopped walking and turned to face him, tilting her head in that adorable way she had. “Everybody at Columbia has money. Look at where Sam Seabury lives.”

Alex didn’t like where this was going. “I’m on scholarship,” he told her.

She frowned at him. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“It means that the university is paying my tuition and other expenses.”

Her frown got deeper. “Why would they do that?”

Alex looked around for a bench and pulled her down to sit next to him. “Do you really not know what a scholarship is?”

“Of course I know,” she snapped at him. “I’m not stupid.”

“Okay, then you understand that sometimes if you can’t pay for college, you can get a scholarship.”

“If I want to go to Columbia, do you think I can get a scholarship? I mean, how do you get one?”

“Well, first, you have to be accepted to enroll.”

Maria nodded. “Okay.”

“Then you have to fill out a lot of paperwork, and if they want you to come to the university, but you don’t have enough money to pay for it, they give you a scholarship.” That was a gross oversimplification, but it should be enough.

“I’ve thought about going to college, you know,” she said, watching his face.

“Yeah, that’s good. I mean, you should go for it.”

“Is it hard to get accepted to Columbia?”

“It isn’t easy. They only accept about six percent of the people who apply.”

She sat for a while, figuring out the math. “So does that mean you have to be really smart to get in?”

Alex nodded. “Pretty much.”

“And you’re really smart?”

“Yeah.” No point in false modesty.

“But you don’t have any money, so they let you go for free?”

That was close enough to how it worked. “Yeah.”

“If you’re so smart, how come you don’t have any money?”

This had gone far enough. “Because I’m trying to get an education. Once I graduate, I’ll be able to get a decent job, but that doesn’t mean I’ll ever be rich. I want to work in the government, maybe in communications. Those jobs don’t always pay a lot, but it’s someplace I can do some good for the country.”

She stared at him for a long time, then finally said. “Wow, that’s really interesting.” It was so obviously a practiced response that Alex was furious.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. “It’s later than I thought,” she said. “I should get home. I have stuff to do.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Alex offered, biting back what he wanted to say with considerable effort.

“Oh, no, that’s okay. You go ahead. I’ll see you later.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and hurried off down the walkway, leaving him sitting on the bench feeling like a fool.

He was still sitting there twenty minutes later when his phone rang. He looked at the screen and smiled with relief, then pushed the answer button.

“Hey, Hale from Yale,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't much like Alex's new friends. He and Sam Seabury will soon disagree on important things, and we all know that Maria Lewis [Reynolds] can cause trouble. And what about poor heart-broken John? Is Eliza the only person who believes in Alex anymore?  
> Maybe Nat Hale will step in to help. We'll see.  
> Please let me know what you think -- there's enough flexibility to this plot that suggestions are welcome. I'm always grateful for comments.  
> Thanks for reading!


	18. I Made Every Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys from Yale convince Alex to pull himself together. Alex reaches out to Herc and then proves that he can be patient -- or maybe just stubborn.

Nat, as it turned out, wasn’t calling just to be sociable. “We had a meeting here yesterday. It was me, Ben, and Dr. Eaton. We talked a little bit about some of the things Blodman’s been saying, but Dr. Eaton wanted to ask us about you.”

“About me? What about me?”

“Look, Alex, you’re not going to like this, but deal with it. Your professor Wilson got in touch with Claire Austin, asked her who you’d hung around with during the internship. Ben and I were judged guilty, so Wilson called Eaton, and Eaton asked us about you. Then Ben and I flipped for who was going to call you, and I lost.”

Alex felt the anger rising. “Are you seriously telling me that I’ve been the topic of conversation up and down the East Coast?”

“Don’t exaggerate,” Nate retorted. “Six people. That’s it.”

Facts didn’t help. Alex continued speaking through clenched teeth. “I take it the discussion wasn’t about what a great guy I am.”

“You’re correct.”

“So? Are they making you call and tell me I’ve been a bad boy?”

“Jesus Christ, Alex, is it any wonder people get fed up with you? Dr. Wilson and Dr. Eaton are worried because we all made a pretty important commitment in January, and they want to be sure you’re mature enough to handle it. Ben and I swore up and down that you were, so please don’t prove us wrong by having one of your famous temper tantrums.”

Alex sat for a few seconds, trying to breathe slowly.

“You still there?” Nat asked suspiciously.

“Yeah.”

“Look, if you want, Ben and I can come to the city, talk to you in person, but I thought we could do it faster on the phone. I overruled Ben on that, by the way.”

“Is Ben there now?” Alex’s voice was quieter.

“Right next to me looking pissed as hell. You’re on speaker.”

“Of course I am.”

“I also overruled him on facetiming you,” Nat continued. “I thought you’d be more likely to listen if you weren’t trying to figure out what I was thinking from my expression.”

“What are you, a fucking psychologist now?” Alex asked sarcastically, but not angrily.

“No, I believe I’m what they call a concerned friend.”

Alex could almost feel his mind clearing as Nat spoke. He took a breath. “I’ve been doing some stupid shit,” he said finally.

“Yeah, so I hear – and, as they say, actions have consequences.”

There was a silence, then Ben’s voice asked, “Can you fix it? Because you can’t be useful if your head is fucked up.”

Alex chewed on his bottom lip and felt his eyes start to burn. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“You understand, right? You’re either going to have to fix it or get over it, because otherwise you’re not going to be able to work with the rest of us.”

Alex half-listened to some muffled argument between Ben and Nat. They were playing good cop/bad cop, he realized, almost amused.

Nat came back on the phone. “Listen, none of us know exactly what happened. Dr. Wilson just knew that it was something personal, and he asked a girl he knew was a friend of yours about it.”

Alex put his hand to his forehead. “Don’t tell me he talked to Angelica Schuyler.”

“Yeah, that was the name.”

“Shit.”

“You get her pregnant and dump her or something?” Nat asked

“Oh, hell, no. If that was it, you wouldn’t have a problem because I’d be dead. We need to get Angelica in on the plans, by the way.”

“Really? Because she’s pretty mad at you.”

“Yeah, she is, but she’s got reason to be, and she’s smart and fierce. We need her.” _We need Angelica and John, and we need Herc and Gil and Patty and some other people,_ Alex reminded himself. _How many weeks have I wasted feeling sorry for myself?_

“You know, you almost sound like you’re using that top-notch brain of yours.”

“Maybe.”

“Listen, Alex.” It was Ben again. “Things are getting bad in the Capital. If you can’t give it your full attention, tell me now. There won’t be time in the future for any of us to put ourselves first.”

“I know. There isn’t time now, either. I’m going to see if I can fix the mess I made. If I can’t, I’ll have to deal with that and move on without using it as an excuse to go off the rails. One way or another, I’ll get back to you in a week or less.” He paused, thinking over the various possible outcomes of what he was planning to do. “If by any chance you don’t hear from me by a week from today, you can just write me off as having failed.” He hated saying the word, but what they were talking about was too important for his feelings to be considered.

“I don’t think that will happen,” Nat said.

“Neither do I,” Alex told him, “but I have to admit the possibility.”

“That’s progress right there,” Ben said.

Alex finally laughed, a little shakily. “You’ll hear from me soon.”

He sat and stared at his phone for a long time after they hung up. He needed to get to John, talk to him. He needed to tell John he loved him. He had to figure out how to do that.

Half an hour later he texted Herc.

*          *          *          *          *

“I don’t even know why I answered your text,” Herc muttered as he not-quite-slammed his coffee down on the table. They were all the way in the back of a Starbucks five blocks away from the campus.

“I get that,” Alex responded. He’d been sitting there for an hour, chewing his lip and watching the door, hoping Herc would show up.

Herc drank some of the coffee, his face grim. He wasn’t there to make things easier for Alex.

“First thing first,” Alex said. “I have no excuses whatsoever. I was wrong. I was wrong not to understand how important the dinner was to John, I was way wrong to forget it, then I was wrong again to act like John shouldn’t be upset. And then I was wrong one more time to send that obnoxious text.”

“Okay.”

Alex leaned forward. “And I’m sorry. I am really sorry. I want to say that to John, but I also owe the apology to you and everybody else I know.”

Herc nodded. “Okay,” he said again.

Alex put more sugar in his coffee and stirred it slowly, not looking up. “I’d like to talk to John.”

For a long time, Herc didn’t answer, looking away from Alex out over the room, his face expressionless. Finally, he turned his head to face Alex. “I can’t stop you.”

“I don’t want it to be like that.”

Herc huffed out an angry breath. “How do you want it to be, Alex? You want everybody to be glad to see you, pretend nothing ever happened?”

A month earlier – hell, a week earlier – Alex would have gotten angry at that. Now he just shook his head. “No. I want the chance to apologize, but if John won’t forgive me, or if you and Gil and Angelica and Eliza don’t want anything to do with me, then I have to accept that. I acted like an asshole, and, as someone recently reminded me, actions have consequences.”

Herc raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You don’t sound much like Alex Hamilton.”

“Maybe I’ve learned a lesson,” Alex told him with a twisted smile.

Herc looked a little less guarded. “You want something to eat?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, fishing a rumpled five out of his pocket and handed it to him. “Are their scones any good?”

“Not as good as Betsy’s.”

“Well, no, they wouldn’t be. Just get me whatever you think is good.”

Herc went to the counter, as much to give himself time to think as because he was hungry. He needed to get his head together, sort out what he should do and what he thought would be best for John. One thing he was sure of, John wouldn’t want Herc or anybody else making decisions for him. John had gotten through the past month and a half. He was doing better. Sometimes he even smiled, but Herc had come to understand that John’s relationship with Alex had gone deeper than a college romance. John would survive. He would move on, but the pain of this break-up would become part of the accumulated burden of rejection that John carried every day.

Herc had also figured out by now that whatever his feelings for John might be, John only saw him as a friend. If he’d never met Alex, maybe things would have gone differently, but Herc was realistic enough not to hang any hopes on coulda, woulda, shoulda. Any decision now had to be directed at what was best for John, not at what might give him a chance with John, because that wasn’t happening. He paid for the food and went back to the table.

Alex stared at the plate in front of him. “You got me fruit, cheese, and whole grain crackers?”

“Eat it.”

“You’re having a muffin.”

“Alex, you look like shit. When’s the last time you ate an actual meal? Or slept?”

“You’re right.” Alex shut his eyes for a moment and sighed. He tried to remember the last time he’d eaten anything other than snacks. “I had Chinese food one day last week.”

“What the hell have you been doing for the last two months?”

“I’ve been going to classes,” Alex declared defensively. “My grades are good.” That was the only thing he’d still cared about.

Herc raised an eyebrow at him. “What about your job?”

Alex flushed. “I’m on a leave of absence.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m suspended from work for sixty days.”

“For …?”

“Property damage.”

Herc frowned. “What property damage?”

“After you and John left that night, I sort of broke the chair.”

“I see.”

“And the desk.”

“Okay then. Sounds like you’re lucky it was only sixty days.”

 “Yeah.”

“Alex, you got me here, you said you were sorry, so tell me what’s been going on. If you want me to talk to John for you, I have to be able to answer his questions.”

Alex put a piece of cheese on a cracker and nibbled it. It wasn’t bad, really. As he tried to organize his thoughts about Maria and the drinking and Dr. Wilson, he realized that he couldn’t explain his behavior without explaining what the internship had really been about. That was okay. He had always planned to bring Herc in, but the conversation was going to be complicated. He took a bite of an apple wedge.

“You got a couple of hours?” he asked.

*          *          *          *          *

“It stinks in here,” Herc said as they walked into Alex’s dorm room. He eyed the trash bags piled in the kitchen and shook his head. “That’s disgusting.”

Alex was feeling hollow, having spent the afternoon and part of the evening telling Herc, first, about the internship and his fears for the government, and then about his precipitate dive into involvement with Maria Lewis. Oh, and the vodka. He’d needed to mention that. It had been exhausting, and he felt like he could sleep for days, but Herc was right. The room smelled awful.

“I should clean up,” Alex said wearily.

“Yeah.” He walked casually through the living area and opened the doors to the bathroom and Alex’s bedroom. “It’ll take a few days.”

Alex nodded and started picking up the trash bags. “I’ll take these to the garbage chute, anyway.”

“You have any clean towels in this place?” Herc asked.

“Bathroom closet,” Alex responded on his way out the door.

Herc stayed long enough to help shove dirty laundry into pillowcases and to tell Alex to buy some food in the morning.

“Sleep tonight,” he directed. “Eat something without sugar in the morning. Do your laundry. I’ll call or text you by dinnertime.”

Alex reached out and grabbed his arm. “Herc – thank you. You’re a good friend.”

Herc dropped his hand on Alex’s shoulder. “No promises.”

“I know.”

Alex got into the shower and let the hot water run over him until his skin was bright red. He washed his hair and soaped himself all over twice, and was practically asleep on his feet by the time he finished. He dried himself on the last clean towel and threw a sheet over the bed, then wrapped himself in a blanket and curled up. Maybe he’d see John in the morning.

Morning came, but it brought no word from Herc. Alex did as he’d promised, went out to the closest convenience store and bought yogurt and protein bars and ate a reasonable breakfast, even limiting his coffee to two cups. Then he took a deep breath and tackled his laundry, hauling it all down to the basement laundry room and filling three washing machines. When that was done, he scrubbed the kitchen and the bathroom. He’d never cared much about untidiness – there were usually books and papers everywhere – but he’d never lived in that kind of dirt before. Maria hadn’t been good for him in any number of ways, not least of which was the vodka she’d always had on hand. He was only realizing now that he’d spent most of the last couple of months half buzzed. Still, he thought, he owed her a goodbye. He wasn’t going to be the kind of coward who just ghosted somebody. He called her number and got voicemail, so he left a message, brief but courteous. Things hadn’t been going great, he was sure she understood, he was going to try to work things out with his boyfriend.

Breaking up by voicemail was one step above breaking up by text, but way better than ghosting. It would have to do.

By four o’clock, he had run out of things to clean and didn’t have any more class work to finish. He knew if he went over the last essay one more time, he’d start messing with it just to have something to do, and he’d end up ruining it. He scrolled through Twitter for political news, but didn’t find anything significant; Blodman really hadn’t put forward any ideas. It was like he was barely there. He clicked the TV on and off and ate another protein bar. Finally at five-thirty, there was a knock at the door.

Herc was standing there alone with his hands shoved into his pockets. He walked in when Alex opened the door.

“Did you talk to him?” Alex asked eagerly.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“He says he doesn’t want to see you.”

Alex had sworn to himself that he wasn’t going to cry, but he felt his eyes fill. “Like – ever? He never wants to see me again?”

Herc shrugged. “He didn’t say that. He didn’t say much of anything, just no. Then he wouldn’t talk about it.”

“What if I called him …? Or wrote him a letter? I could write a great letter, tell him everything, explain it …”

“I don’t know. I think maybe …” he hesitated.

“What?”

“Maybe just go. Go knock on his door.”

“You think?”

Herc spread his hands in front of him. “Look, I don’t know. I just think – maybe it’s worth a try. For what it’s worth …” He stopped.

Alex watched his face. “For what it’s worth – what?”

“I don’t think he’s over you.”

Alex grabbed his jacket. Herc said he’d had enough drama for twenty-four hours and was taking the bus home. They walked together as far as the bus stop, and then Alex went on alone to John’s apartment building. He stood in the hall in front of John’s door trying to breathe normally for a few minutes before he pushed the bell. When it rang, he heard footsteps inside and knew John would be able to see who it was through the peephole. He stood where he knew John would see his face and heard the footsteps stop at the door. There was a long silence, and then he heard John walk away. He took a couple of deep breaths and then sat down on the floor and leaned against the wall. He wasn’t going to give up easily.

At ten o’clock, he tried again, and the same thing happened. At midnight, he went back to the dorm, showered, and got some sleep. He was back at nine in the morning with a couple of bottles of water, some protein bars, and his notepad so he could read. Every couple of hours, he’d ring the bell or knock, and he’d hear John come to the door and walk away. Except for a couple of quick breaks to use the rest room at the McDonald’s across the street, he stayed there.

At seven that evening, Gil showed up. He didn’t look any too pleased to see Alex. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked.

Alex stood up. “I’m hoping to talk to John.”

Gil looked from him to John’s closed door and back again. “He doesn’t seem to want to talk to you.”

“I know. I’m hoping he’ll change his mind.”

“How long have you been here?”

“About twenty-four hours, but I went home to sleep.”

Gil’s mouth twitched a little. “How long are you planning to stay?”

“I don’t know yet. My goal is to stay until he’ll talk to me, but if he tells me flat out he doesn’t want to, I’ll go.”

“He hasn’t said that to you?”

Alex shook his head. “No. He just won’t open the door.”

Gil regarded him thoughtfully. “He invited me over to play chess. Do you want me to tell him you’re out here?”

“He knows.”

“Okay.” He turned and pushed the bell, and Alex heard John’s footsteps again. It took all his self-control to keep his eyes down because he wasn’t going to jump up and start talking when John opened the door for Gil. He heard the lock click, and then John say, “Come on in. It’s unlocked.”

Gil left at ten, sketching a quick wave to Alex on his way out. Alex knocked right after that, and heard John come back to the door, maybe thinking Gil had forgotten something. There was a longer silence this time before he heard John’s footsteps walk away.

He left at midnight again. The next day was Monday, and he didn’t have any classes on Monday. He knew John had only one, at eleven o’clock. He knew that sitting here in front of John's door was just this side of stalking, and he didn’t want to make John feel trapped in his own apartment, unable to go to his classes because Alex was lying in wait for him. He’d written out a note: _Dear John, I hope you’ll talk to me sometime soon. I’m going to leave at ten-thirty so you can go to class without being bothered. I’ll be back at one o’clock. I’ll be here until you either open the door to me or tell me to go. Alex P.S. I still love you. I always have._

At nine o’clock, he rang the bell, and when he heard John’s footsteps, he pushed the note under the door. He waited, this time for so long that he began to feel hopeful. He leaned his forehead against the door, willing it to open, but then he heard John walk away. This time when Alex sat back down against the wall, there were tears on his face.

At ten-thirty, as he’d promised, he left. He took a walk and sat on the wall in the quad for a while. It was March now, still chilly, but warmer than it had been, and it was sunny out. It had been weeks since he had just hung out on campus. He’d been going to his classes, but the rest of the time, he’d either been holed up in his dorm or with Maria. He felt like he’d been away on a long trip. He went into the cafeteria and got a hot lunch for the first time in a while. He sat by himself, not even looking around for anyone else, and kept his eyes down, reading _The Order of the Phoenix_ for the fourth time on his Kindle.

When Eliza pulled out the other chair at his table, he jumped.

“Hi,” she said softly.

“Hi.” He waved vaguely at his notepad. “Neville just joined Dumbledore’s Army,” he said randomly.

“I’ve always thought Neville deserved more credit.”

Alex smiled. “Me too. It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah, you too.” There was an awkward pause. “How are you?”

“I’m good. Really, I’m okay.”

“Herc said you kind of got into some stuff.”

Alex snorted. “That’s one way of describing it.”

“He didn’t go into any details,” she assured him quickly.

Alex had no idea what she might be imagining, but he decided to just leave it alone. She was still willing to talk to him, and that was enough.

“How’s Angelica?” he asked.

“Good.”

“Your parents and Peggy?”

Eliza smiled. “Everybody’s fine. Angelica and I will be going home for spring break in a couple of weeks. I’ll tell them all hi for you if you want.”

He nodded. “That would be good.”

The conversation, such as it was, stalled, and Alex looked at the time. “I have to be somewhere by one,” he said. He wasn’t going to tell her he was trying to talk to John. Time enough for other people to know when that decision was made.

Eliza gave him a hesitant half-hug, and he went back to John’s building. There was nothing to indicate if John was there or not, so he rang the bell. John was home. He heard him come to the door and walk away. Nothing had changed. Alex sat down with a bottle of water and read some more about Dumbledore’s Army. At three o’clock he tried again with the same result. He thought about how much time he could spend doing this in the following days. He had most of his classes on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, so at best he could be there for a couple of hours a day. He’d keep doing it, though. John hadn’t told him to go away.

At six o’clock, he rang the bell again and heard John’s footsteps come to the door and stop. And then, miraculously, the door opened and John said, “You are so fucking stubborn.”

He fell into John’s arms, crying.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe Alex can work on his relationship with John now. Will everybody be glad to see him?  
> There will be startling news from the Capital soon.  
> Thanks as always for any kudos and comments. I love hearing from you.


	19. Tomorrow There’ll Be More of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex does his best to make amends. He reveals President Washington's information to those he can trust. John gets an unexpected Instagram message. Ben and Nat come for a visit. There is a breaking news story.

Alex told John everything. For the rest of the evening, they sat on the living room floor, because that’s where Alex had landed when he stumbled in, while he described every single event of the past weeks in excruciating detail.

“You don’t have to …” John kept saying, but Alex persisted.

“No secrets,” he vowed. “I want you to know.”

He finished with his head on John’s lap. “And I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I was so wrong, and I …” He sat up and held John’s face between his hands. “You deserve so much better than the way I’ve treated you.”

John nodded slowly. “For the first time in my life, you had convinced me that I deserved to be loved. Even when I was furious with you, I didn’t lose that. A couple of years ago, if I’d planned an important date with somebody and they forgot it, I wouldn’t have been angry, at least not as angry as I was with you. I would have thought it was more proof that I was worthless. You made me believe that I mattered. That’s why I was so mad.”

“John, you do matter,” Alex told him, his voice ragged.

“Yeah, I do, and don’t you ever forget it again.” But he was smiling, and he leaned in for a kiss, and Alex held him, his face against John’s neck, his hands in his hair.

“You smell good,” Alex murmured. “You smell like you. I didn’t even realize how much I missed that.” He nuzzled the soft skin below John’s ear and inhaled deeply, winding a curl around his finger. John kissed his cheek and then ran his tongue along the edge of his ear. Alex whimpered.

“Let’s get off the floor, _querido_ ,” John whispered, and he felt Alex’s tears warm and wet on his neck. _Things have been reversed,_ John thought. _Tonight he’s the one feeling anxious and inadequate, and I’m going to be the one who makes him feel secure._

He stood up, feeling stronger than he had in years, and tugged on Alex’s hand. “Come with me.”

In the morning, Alex woke up in John’s arms and started crying again. He tried to stay quiet and still, but within a few minutes, John stirred and pulled him closer. He was so warm, and he felt so good. He reached up over his head to play with John’s hair.

“You crying, babe?” John asked.

“Maybe a little.”

“’S’okay. Alarm’s going to go off in a couple of minutes, though. We both have class.”

“I want to stay here,” Alex said, turning so that he could look at John’s face.

John propped himself up on his elbow and squinted over Alex’s head to try to see his phone. “For how long?”

“Forever.”

“Yeah, we’re not going to do that.”

The phone began beeping loudly, and Alex groaned, scrunching down under the comforter. John mercilessly yanked the covers off and poked him in the ribs. “Get up. Go make coffee while I get a shower.”

Alex pulled on the underwear and jeans that were still on the floor and went into the kitchen. He started the coffee and got out some bread and butter for toast. He felt strange, as if he’d been sick for a long time and was finally back on his feet. He poured himself a cup of coffee and was adding sugar when John came into the kitchen.

“Is that all we’re having for breakfast?” he asked, surveying the table.

“Um, maybe?”

“Go get your shower,” John ordered. “I’ll fix breakfast. Wait, how much sugar is in that coffee?”

“A few spoonfuls.”

John raised his eyebrows in disbelief and took the cup out of Alex’s hand. He took a cautious sip and choked it down, then dumped it out in the sink. “Shower,” he ordered, pointing to the bathroom.

When Alex came back to the kitchen, John handed him a plate of scrambled eggs. There were two glasses of orange juice on the table along with the coffee and toast. “For now, you’re limited to two spoonfuls of sugar in your coffee. Herc said I would need to feed you some decent food,” John explained. “He said you were run down.”

“When did he say that?” Alex asked through a mouthful of eggs.

John smiled. “I may have talked to Herc a couple of times while you were sitting in the hall.”

Alex swallowed. “Really?”

“Yeah. He knew I wouldn’t hold out.”

Alex’s eyes filled up again, and John said, “Hey, you can’t cry all day. We both have classes, and at four o’clock, we’re going to Betsy’s.”

Alex’s mouth was full again, so he just frowned and shook his head.

“Yeah, we are,” John told him firmly. “It’ll be okay.”

Alex went to his classes, still feeling like he was recovering from a long illness. Nobody’s schedule matched his on Tuesdays, so he ate lunch alone in the cafeteria. He’d promised John that he wouldn’t have any junk food for a while, so he ordered vegetable soup and found himself enjoying it. He’d have to remember to tell Nat about the junk food ban when he called. Nat would think it was funny. He was putting that phone call off for a couple more days until he’d talked to everybody and told them the truth about the internship. He needed to show Nat and Ben that he’d recruited the beginning of a resistance group.

By three o’clock, though, his positive feelings were beginning to fade. He didn’t really want to go to Betsy’s and deal with everybody. He knew Angelica would have plenty to say to him, and he didn’t want to see the hurt look in Eliza’s eyes. Of them all, Eliza was the one who would have talked to him, but he had never even bothered trying to contact her. She deserved better from him, just as John had. He was starting to get overwhelmed by his own resolutions to improve, and he was anxious about being too emotional in front of his friends. He’d had trouble controlling his tears all day, and he really didn’t want to break down sobbing at Betsy’s.

John caught up to him in the quad, and for a few minutes Alex just stared at him. It was sunny and cool, not quite spring weather yet, but nice, and the afternoon sunlight caught on John’s curls, making them more gold than brown.

“You look like an angel,” Alex said without thinking, and John laughed out loud.

“You’re crazy.”

“No, really,” Alex continued. “There’s a medieval painting of the Annunciation in the Metropolitan, and the angel has curls exactly like yours.”

“Okay.” John put his arm around Alex and looked into his eyes, half amused, half puzzled. “You’ve been visiting museums?”

Alex flushed. “A couple of times. I guess I forgot to tell you. I’m sorry …”

“No, no, it’s okay. I like museums. I’m an artist, remember?”

“Can we go next weekend?” Alex asked. “I want to show you the angel with hair like yours. When I saw the painting, you were all I could think of, and I missed you so much.”

John pulled him in closer. “Don’t go away like that again, okay?”

Alex was fighting the tears. “I promise.”

John took a deep breath. “I have to show you something,” he said.

“Okay.”

John pulled out his phone. “I got an Instagram message.”

“From who?” Alex asked, frowning.

“Well … here, just look at it.”

Alex took the phone and started scrolling down. “Oh shit,” he muttered.

“Yeah.”

_“Fuck.”_

“So if you were, you know, worried about hurting her or something …” John began.

“Goddam fucking _bitch!_ ”

“Don’t throw my phone!” John yelled, grabbing it just in time.

There was nothing for Alex to throw or punch, so he just kept swearing and walking back and forth.

“Listen, Alex,” John said, keeping pace with him, “I’m going to delete it all. It doesn’t mean anything to me, okay? You told me about her, it’s over. I just wanted you to know.”

“Fuck her!” Alex snapped.

“Yeah, whatever. Deleting now, okay? You don’t want another look or anything? Maybe try to figure out where she had the camera?”

“Fuck, no!”

John pushed the delete button until everything was gone, keeping one eye on Alex as he did to be sure he didn’t take off. Then he reached out and got hold of his arm. “It’s done. It’s over.”

“That goddam fucking …”

“Yeah, okay, I get it. I don’t like her either, but …”

Alex was breathing hard. “How could she …”

“Listen,” John said, “calm down. I want to ask you something.” He pulled Alex over to a bench. “Sit down.”

Alex sat, but only on the edge of the bench, drumming his fingers and muttering.

“I need you to listen to me,” John said again. “Maybe this is just a reflection of my, you know, privileged background, but did she ever ask you for money? Or maybe act like she expected you to give her money?”

Alex was surprised into silence. He swung sideways to face John, nodding. “Yes, the last time I saw her. Apparently, she thought I had money and was just not spending it on her. I think I finally convinced her that I didn’t, and she made it pretty clear she’d lost interest.”

John gave him a faint smile. “That’s why she sent the pictures. She wants money. I don’t know whether she wants it from you or me, but she thinks somebody will pay her for the pictures and the video.”

 _“Blackmail?”_ Alex asked incredulously. “That’s crazy.”

“Only if you don’t have money,” John told him. “I’ve had it come up before.”

 _“Seriously?_ You’ve been blackmailed?”

“Not successfully.”

“Why didn’t you ever mention it?”

John shrugged. “No reason to. It was just a couple of times, and I ignored it.” He put his hand on Alex’s cheek. “They threatened to tell my father things about me. Thing is, my father already hated me, so it wasn’t much of a threat.”

“Ah, shit, John.” Alex put his arms around him. “What a miserable experience for you to go through, though.”

“It’s no big deal, really. Just a couple of stupid guys who thought they were going to use me and failed.” He pulled back and looked at Alex’s face. “Kind of looks like this girl thought she was going to use you, too.”

“Yeah. Jesus, I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been.”

“It won’t happen again,” John said.

“No.” Alex looked off in the distance, reflecting on close he’d come to smashing everything that really mattered to him. He wasn’t crying, though. He felt grounded now, ready to pick his life back up. He took John’s hand. “Let’s go get some coffee.”

They started for Betsy’s, hand-in-hand, smiling.

“Only two sugars,” John reminded him.

“Oh, come on …”

They were still arguing when they got to Betsy’s.

John had arranged that everybody would be there. Maybe it would have been a little easier on Alex to have them come to the apartment, but John knew that the sooner Alex got back to his normal life, the better it would be. If that meant making Alex face a few difficult situations, then so be it. Alex hesitated and took a deep breath at the door, but John pulled him in. Betsy and Patty were behind the counter, and Herc. Gil, Angelica and Eliza were at one of the tables in the back as usual.

“I’ll have my usual,” John said to Betsy, “and Alex wants decaf with two sugars and extra milk.”

Alex started to protest, but John told him to shut up and Betsy got started on the order, trying not to laugh.

Eliza stood up to give Alex a hug when they got to the table, and then she gave him a gentle nudge toward Angelica, who stayed in her seat.

“So you’re back?” Angelica said, her eyes narrowed.

“Yeah.”

“For good?”

“Yeah.” He held out both hands to her, palms up. “I swear.”

She hesitated, but only for a few seconds, then took both his hands and pulled him down for a hug. While she had her arms around him, she whispered into his ear, “Don’t ever treat anybody like that again.”

“You have my word,” he whispered back.

Angelica smiled because, after all, they were in a public place, and there’d already been more than enough drama, but she wasn’t absolutely sure his word was good.

Patty came over with coffee and muffins on a tray and told Alex, “Betsy says this muffin is for you because it’s whole-grain and low sugar, and Herc told her you have to eat healthy now.” She stepped back and looked him up and down. “He’s right, too. You look like you’ve lost ten pounds, at least.”

It was fourteen, Alex knew, but he didn’t say anything. A diet of coffee, vodka, and junk food had left him achy and exhausted. He was too old to think he could live on caffeine and candy bars, and he had serious work to do. He was going to have to stay healthy.

“I need to talk to you guys,” he said, “about the internship. I already told Herc and John some of it, but I need to get together with everybody – you, too, Patty,” he added, as she turned to go.

“Okay, just let me take the tray back.”

“No, not here,” Alex said quickly, and Angelica gave him a puzzled look.

“My apartment,” John told them. “Tomorrow at six. I’ll order pizza.”

“But Alex, I don’t understand,” Gil interrupted. “I am not studying political science, so why do you want to talk to me about this internship?”

“Or me?” Patty asked. “I’m not even going to college.”

Alex took a deep breath. “I would like to just ask you to trust me, but I realize I’m not in a good position to do that right now, so maybe I can ask you to trust John and Herc.”

Gil and Angelica looked at Herc, who nodded. “Yeah. You all need to hear what he has to say.”

*          *          *          *          *

Alex paced back and forth as he explained the true purpose of his government internship. His friends, crowded into John’s small living room, listened attentively, their expressions ranging from puzzled to horrified.

“And you think President Washington was right?” Angelica asked, leaning forward in her chair.

“I’m sure of it,” Alex responded. “You heard the inaugural speech. You saw the changes in the military uniforms.”

Patty was sitting on the couch with Herc. “Are the uniforms that important, though?” she asked skeptically.

“They’re symbolic,” Alex told her. “There’s more of an emphasis on flashy and superficial. Make the uniforms sparkly, and people won’t notice other things.”

“Other things like what?” Eliza wanted to know.

“For one thing, the increased militarization of the police. Did you see on the news that there’s talk about merging police departments with the National Guard?”

“He’s right,” Herc said. “The police uniforms are different too. Maybe you think that’s silly, but I’m a design major, and a lot of what we study is about how design can affect mood and behavior. It’s real.”

Gil had been mostly quiet, lounging on the floor next to John. Now he asked, “What do you think Blodman’s goal is?”

“I don’t think Blodman’s behind it. I think King is pulling the strings, and I think his goal is power.”

“It is hard to achieve absolute power in a democracy,” Gil agreed thoughtfully.

“Exactly. I think King wants to be dictator.”

“This is crazy,” Angelica said.

“I know, but remember that President Washington, Vice-President Akhdir, and Speaker Dayton were all in agreement. They’re not alarmists.”

“So what should we be doing now?” John asked.

“Planning. Ben Tallmadge is setting up some sort of communication network. We’re going to need to send messages without being intercepted, and we’re going to need to do that in several ways, but I’ll leave that to Ben, Nat Hale, and Lydia Darragh. They’ll keep us informed. Ethan, Abbie, Tony, TJ, Frank and Prue are working on organizing groups, just as I am. The President suggested that we might need forged ID’s, so I think that’s something we should get started on.”

Angelica stared incredulously. “Code names? Like in a spy novel?”

“I can do that,” John said.

Angelica spun around to look at him. “You can make fake ID’s?”

John shrugged. “Sure. It’s digital art.” He turned to Alex. “I’ll need a good quality printer and a laminator. I’ve been thinking about it, and I think I ought to get two, along with a supply of ink. If things get as bad as you say they might, there could be restrictions on purchases.”

Alex nodded slowly. “You’re right. We should buy supplies now in case they make it harder. What else?” He looked around the room.

“Guns,” said Gil. “I’ve always thought they’re too easy to get here, but maybe we will need them. And we should all learn how to shoot well.”

“You’re in, then?” Alex asked him. “You don’t want to go back to France?”

“No.” Gil shook his head, making his curls bounce. “I think this is important. I would like to be useful.” He grinned suddenly. “And it might be interesting to have a gun.”

“Oh, dear God,” Angelica muttered, putting her hands over her face. “Please don’t tell me that you guys think this is going to be some sort of game of cops and robbers.”

“No, calm yourself, Angelica,” Gil told her. “I am not going to go out into the street and start shooting people, I promise you, but I will learn how to use a gun.”

“We’ll need the forged ID’s before we buy guns,” Herc pointed out.

“And we can’t buy the guns in New York,” Alex said. “Too many restrictions.”

“Where is it easy to buy guns?” Eliza asked.

“Texas, maybe? I’ll look it up.”

“We can do a gun-shopping road trip with fake ID’s,” John proposed. “That should be an adventure.”

Eliza looked like she was on the verge of tears. “Don’t make stupid jokes. Wherever you buy your guns, it’s illegal to take them across state lines.”

Alex reached over and took her hand. “We’re not going to act unless we have to, but if we do, then we’ll be breaking a lot of laws. You don’t need to be a part of this if you don’t want to.”

“I know, and I do want to be a part of it. It’s just so scary.”

“Yeah, it is, but we’ll be in it together.”

She gave him a look that only Angelica really understood and nodded. “What can I do?”

“Nothing yet. Right now, it’s wait-and see. We just need to be prepared to act when things change.” Alex turned to address all of them again. “Who else do you know who might be interested in working with us?”

“Betsy, for sure,” Patty said, “and Mark and Deb.”

“Nate Pendleton and Joe Allicocke,” Angelica added. “I take it Dr. Wilson and Dr. Barron are in on this too, right?”

Alex nodded. “And soon, if not already, there will be groups like this at Harvard, Yale, Dartmouth, Penn, William and Mary, Princeton, West Point, and the University of South Carolina. For now, at least, we’re organizing in universities, but that may change.” He paced a few more steps. “I’d like to get Ben and Nat here so they can meet you and talk about how we’re going to coordinate. We’re going to have to walk a fine line between trying to get more people interested in standing up to Blodman and King and being careful about who we talk to. We don’t discuss this at all with anyone who might be a supporter of the current administration.”

“Sylvia,” Eliza said.

“What about her?”

“She thinks Blodman’s great, so if any of you are in my room or around her, don’t mention this. That goes for her boyfriend, too?”

“I knew I didn’t like him,” Alex commented. “I think we should be careful around that whole crowd – Sylvia, Marty, Sam Seabury …”

“Oh, and the Shippen girl,” Angelica added. “I can’t remember her first name, but she’s friends with all of them.”

“Her name’s Sadie,” Herc said. “She’s a design major – well, she thinks she is, but she can’t tell a square from a circle, so …”

“Okay, so that’s a group we avoid. I’ll talk to Nate and Joe. Patty, can you fill Betsy and Mark and Deb in?”

“Sure. I’ll see them all within the next couple of days.”

“I’ll get a printer and start working on ID’s,” John said.

“You want me to research gun purchase laws?” Eliza asked, a little pale, but determined.

“Yeah, that would be good. I’ll let you know when Ben and Nat are coming, so we can all get together again. Anything else?”

Alex looked around the room, but there were no more questions or comments. “Okay, then. Just pay attention to the news, and if anything looks odd, make a note of it. I think they’re starting small, but sooner or later, there’s going to be something obvious.”

After everyone else left, he sat with John on the couch, his feet up on the coffee table. John had insisted on making hot chocolate, to help them sleep, he said.

Alex took a sip and smiled. “I think if I want to sleep well, I’m going to need something stronger than hot chocolate.”

“Well, that’s all you’re getting. Seriously, babe, if this is all real, then among other things, we’re going to have to stay healthy.”

“You know, I hadn’t really considered that, but you’re right – going to the gym, eating right, all that.”

“Like soldiers,” John said, watching his face.

“Yeah.” He sighed and pulled John in closer. “That’s not a career I was planning on.”

“But we’ll do what we have to do, right?”

“Right. Just don’t tell anybody else how scared I am.”

*          *          *          *          *

Ben and Nat were coming for the weekend, the last weekend before spring break. Before they arrived, however, there was an interesting news story. Representative Tom Lee of Virginia stated that he was retiring from Congress and so would not be running for re-election in November. Parker Washington, the son of the former President, immediately announced that he would be a candidate for the House seat.

There was a lot of discussion with Ben and Nat about Parker Washington’s future, and Alex, for one, felt that it was a positive development. Another Washington in the government would mean that there was someone who would work on the inside to prevent Blodman and his power-hungry cronies from subverting the Constitution.

“Maybe,” Ben said, stretching his legs out onto John’s coffee table, “this will all be for nothing.”

“You think one freshman Congressman could make a difference?” Angelica asked.

“If his name is Washington,” Ben responded.

Alex was pouring coffee in the kitchen. “I hope you’re right,” he said, handing out mugs. “Oh, and there’s cream and sugar, but Ben has to get his feet off the table.”

Ben obliged grudgingly, and Alex brought in the cream and sugar. John put down a plate of cookies next to them. “I baked,” he announced.

“This is why my mother loves you,” Eliza told him, helping herself to a cookie.

“Tell her I said hi when you go home.”

“I will. She wants to know when you guys are coming up again.”

“Maybe this summer,” Alex said.

“What are you doing for spring break?” Nat asked, reaching for his second cookie.

“Two things,” John responded, looking sideways at Alex. “First, we’re going to dinner at Ciboulette, and second, we’re going to the Metropolitan so Alex can show me the angel that looks like me.”

Nat laughed. “That sounds lovely,” he said. “Anything else?”

“Well, yeah, we’re going to Louisiana to buy guns.”

There was a pause and then Nat commented calmly, “Nothing like a varied agenda.”

“It turned out that Louisiana is the least-regulated gun purchase state,” Eliza explained. “Who knew?”

“How many guns?” Ben asked practically.

“So far, we have twelve people who are definitely committed to this, so we figured twelve guns,” Alex told him.

“Try to get more,” Ben advised. “If you don’t use them, somebody else will. Do you have ID’s?”

Alex grinned. “Show him, John.”

John went to the second bedroom, which was now set up as a studio, and brought back a handful of driver’s licenses. All of them had pictures of either John or Alex, but none of them had their real names. All of them looked absolutely authentic.

“Holy shit, these are good,” Ben declared, staring at them. He looked up at John. “Can you do more?”

“Fuck, yeah, I can do as many as you want. I’ll just need the pictures.”

“I think you’re the new official forger of the Resistance.”

“Artist,” John corrected, “but thanks.”

“Is that what we’re calling ourselves, the Resistance?” Herc asked.

Ben shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t think we have a name yet, so that will do for now.”

“More spy novel stuff,” Angelica said. “Next thing you know, we’ll have a secret handshake.”

“Actually,” Ben began, and Angelica put her face in her hands.

“Oh, please, no,” she muttered.

“No, of course not,” Ben continued, “but I’m working on communication. Let’s look at the practical side of things. If Alex and John buy guns, how do they get them to us or to Prue or to Crazy Tony?”

“Wait,” Herc broke in, “we’re working with a guy called Crazy Tony?”

Ben waved his hand. “Yeah, don’t worry, he’s a good guy. Anyway, the guns have to be transported, and now we’re also going to need to send pictures so that John can make the ID’s. I don’t think we’re going to want to put these things in the mail.”

“Not the guns, for sure,” Eliza said.

“Not the pictures either,” John pointed out. “They’ll have to be taken to specific standards and they’ll look exactly like what they are, pictures for an ID. You can put them all on a flash drive if you want, but they’re still ID pictures.”

Ben nodded. “We’re going to need couriers.”

“I could do that,” Betsy spoke up. She’d been sitting quietly, taking it all in. “So could anybody who works for me. It’s easy enough to need specialty ingredients and send somebody to get Maine blueberries or Vermont maple syrup. I really use those ingredients, so if I’m sending my employees on buying trips, there shouldn’t be anything suspicious about it.”

“That’s perfect,” Ben “Do you have a vehicle?”

“I have a van.”

“Would it be okay if we modify it? Add some hiding places?”

“Yeah, but how? I mean, where would it be done?”

Ben looked at Nat. “Crazy Tony’s the car guy, right? I’ll check with him. Could you do without the van for a few days if necessary?”

“As long as I knew ahead of time, yeah, I could manage.”

Before Ben could say anything else, his phone beeped an alert, followed quickly by Nat’s and Alex’s doing the same thing. “Turn on the TV,” Ben ordered abruptly. “News channel.”

John clicked the remote and turned up the sound so that they could all hear. A somber-looking anchor was speaking.

“… taken immediately to the University of St. Denis Hospital, where he remains in critical condition. In accordance with the Twenty-fifth Amendment, the Cabinet and the Vice-President have sent a written declaration to both Speaker Dayton and the Majority Leader of the Senate that the President is unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office …”

“He had a stroke,” John said, reading the bright red “Breaking News” banner that was moving across the bottom of the screen. “Blodman had a stroke.”

“Therefore,” continued the news anchor, “Vice-President George King is now Acting President.”

For a few minutes everyone stood in stunned silence while the anchor continued, and then Alex spoke. “King tried to kill him.” He could feel his heart pounding as he looked first at Ben and then around the room at his friends gathered there. “Make no mistake. Blodman won’t be back. George King is our President now. God help us.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's going to happen next? Expect the political action to pick up now that King is in control. As far as other kinds of action ... wait and see.  
> Thank you so much for kudos and comments. I really love hearing from you.


	20. Our Camaraderie and Bravery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you've been waiting for fluff, here it is, at least mostly. It's time for spring break. Alex and John finally get to have some fun and make some decisions. Alex, John, and Gil head south to buy guns. Alex practices driving, and Gil practices a Cajun accent. Spending time together brings some clearer understanding of their friendships.

The first few days of the King administration were given mostly to expressions of concern for President Blodman and updates on his condition. Acting-President King appeared on television almost every day to make gloomy pronouncements about Blodman’s health. He always used the camera time for a few more comments, though, talking about the dangers the country was facing – dangers from without because of terrorists or criminals trying to cross the borders; dangers from within from lazy good-for-nothings who defrauded the system while honest people had to work to pay for them. He made it sound like half the country was living on government benefits paid for by the other half. Alex, who knew economic statistics as well as most people knew the alphabet, would stand in front of the TV yelling,” Liar!” until John distracted him or talked him down.

On the Thursday before spring break, John dragged Alex to the DMV to get a learner’s permit. He’d made him study and take the practice test online, so Alex had no problem getting the permit, but on the way home, he said, “What’s the point, really? It says I can only drive with somebody age twenty-one or over in the car. Who’s that supposed to be?”

“Me,” John told him, grinning.

“You’re nineteen.”

“Alex, didn’t you look at the driver’s licenses I showed Ben? I have three different licenses with three different names and three different birthdates. So do you, by the way.”

“I already have a driver’s license?”

“Three of them, actually.”

“Then why are we doing this?”

“Because, since I might have to be a passenger in a car with you someday, I’d like to be sure you know how to drive.”

Alex read through the permit restrictions. “Wait, I can’t practice in the city. That’s ridiculous.”

“We’re going on a road trip, remember?”

Alex’s eyes widened. “You want me to drive to Louisiana? I thought you and Gil were going to split the driving.”

“You’ll be fine,” John said. “I have it all worked out.”

On Friday, Angelica and Eliza left for Albany. Gil had told Monsieur Gérard that he was going to spend the week traveling with friends. Monsieur Gérard was delighted that Gil had developed some close friendships this year, so he was happy to have him go.

“He would probably not be so happy if he knew I was becoming involved in illegal gun purchases,” Gil remarked calmly.

“Probably not,” Alex agreed.

Herc was going to spend the week helping his mom and siblings repaint the apartment. That was going to be quite a project since it meant moving lots of furniture around in a tiny two-bedroom apartment that housed seven people, but Herc was looking forward to it. “I’ve never been fond of the green Mom picked out when I was twelve,” he said.

Since Betsy’s would be having a slow week with most of the students gone, Ben had arranged to drive her van down to Philly for Crazy Tony to customize with hidden storage. They would all meet up on the following Saturday to report to one another and make plans.

Alex and John had some catching up to do before they left for Louisiana, and on Friday, they finally had their romantic dinner at Ciboulette. Alex had been sleeping most nights at John’s apartment, and John said he wasn’t letting him out of his sight all day Friday, but Alex had written himself notes and set a few reminder alarms so that he would be ready on time. He wore the navy blue suit that he had taken to the Capital, and he was as excited as a kid going to his first dance.

They got there a few minutes before their seven o’clock reservation and were seated almost immediately. While John hadn’t been to this particular restaurant before, he was familiar with the kind of fine dining that made Alex anxious.

“You’ve had dinner at the White House, Alex,” he reminded him. “I’m pretty sure you can manage.”

“Utensils from the outside in, and watch my hostess, right? I guess you’ll have to stand in for the hostess.”

“Idiot,” John responded, laughing.

They both ordered seafood, and by the time they were halfway through their salads, Alex was starting to relax. He was watching John in what was, after all, the kind of environment he’d grown up in, comfortable at a table with a snow-white linen tablecloth and matching napkins. John looked up and saw Alex staring at him, ignoring the food on his plate.

“What?” he asked.

“Just looking at you.”

John blushed. “Eat your salad,” he said.

“You’re amazing.”

“You know, if I kiss you here, it might attract too much attention.”

Alex smiled and obediently ate some salad. “Will you kiss me later?”

“Promise.”

“We’re going to the museum tomorrow, right?”

“Sure. You’re going to show me the angel that looks like me.” John still thought that was hilarious.

“Has hair like yours,” Alex corrected. “I don’t think his face looks like yours. He’s got a freakishly high forehead, for one thing, and he’s wearing a very girly jeweled headband.”

“You’re sure this is a boy angel?”

“Duh, it’s Gabriel. Anyway, aren’t all the angels in the Bible boys?”

“I have no idea. I paid even less attention to my religion class than I did to my econ class.”

Alex shook his head in mock disapproval. “Catholic school was wasted on you.”

“No shit.”

“Well, anyway, it was just the angel’s hair that I noticed, not his face.” Alex put his salad fork neatly on his plate, as he had learned. “It made me think of touching your hair. It made me miss you.”

John reached across the table and touched Alex’s hand gently. “You’re a little crazy, you know, wandering around the art museum looking for pictures of your boyfriend.”

Alex turned his hand palm up and caught John’s fingers. “What, everybody doesn’t do that when they’ve behaved like a jerk and feel miserable?”

“Some people punch walls instead.”

Alex winced. “Is that how the hole …?”

“Yeah, but I’m going to fix it. I watched a drywall repair video on YouTube.”

“I’ll help,” Alex offered, “since it was actually my fault.”

John tried not to laugh, thinking of Alex’s furniture-assembly efforts, and the waiter arrived to clear their salad plates and deliver the entrées.

“Good shrimp,” he commented instead, after taking a few bites. “How’s your fish?”

“Really good. I love fish. We ate it a lot when I was a kid. I even caught them sometimes.”

“You know how to fish?”

“I have skills you don’t even know about yet,” Alex told him, raising an eyebrow expressively.

“I’m a Southern boy,” John said. “I know how to fish and hunt.”

“Hunt? Like with a gun?”

“Yeah, my father thought every young man should know how to use a hunting rifle. I can hit a target.”

“What did you hunt? Deer?”

John nodded, his eyes on his plate. “I always missed, though.”

Alex’s face changed. “Even though you could hit a target?”

John looked up and gave him a crooked smile. “Yeah. It was one of the ways I declared my independence.”

Alex felt his throat tighten. “I wish I could hug you now.”

John’s smile grew a little broader. “Later. We’ve got all night.”

“I like that.”

They held hands all the way home except when John needed to use two hands to turn, and then started to make out in the parking garage elevator. John’s parking spot was only two floors up, though, so they’d barely gotten started when they got to his floor. When they got inside, John gave Alex a long soft kiss and reminded him, “We have all night.”

It was nice to take their time, Alex thought, unbuttoning John’s shirt while John stood patiently looking at him, smiling. John’s eyes were dark and soft, his pupils dilated. When Alex tossed his shirt onto the floor and started to unbuckle his belt, John took a long breath and bent to kiss him. Alex managed to get John’s pants unzipped, then slid his arms around his waist and inside the waistband and down. John’s hips jerked, and he began kissing Alex’s neck, small, soft kisses with little licks in between, tasting his skin. That was enough to quicken the pace a little, and John pulled Alex to the bed, the last few articles of clothing landing wherever they fell. John lay on top, moving against him, loving Alex’s responsive gasps and whimpers. _“Te gusta, mi amor?”_ he whispered.

 _“Si, mucho,”_ Alex managed to respond. He reached up and tangled his fingers in John’s hair, pulling him down, locking his legs around John’s to hold him in place, and then John broke from the kiss and said through his teeth, “I _want_ ..”

“You want what?” Alex asked, teasing, but John wasn’t playing.

“Turn over,” he ordered, his teeth still clenched and his mouth close to Alex’s ear, and Alex obeyed, so aroused by the urgency in John’s voice that he thought he might finish right then.

They hadn’t done this before. It had always been Alex who took charge, John who yielded, but not tonight. John reached for the lube and the condom ready on the nightstand, slicked his fingers and inserted one, then two, circling, feeling his way.

At the same time, he sucked gently on Alex’s earlobe and whispered to him. “Is that okay?” he asked. “How about more?”

“Yeah,” Alex gasped. “More is okay.”

John added another finger, and Alex pushed back against his hand.

John licked his ear. “Tell me if it feels good,” he said.

“God, John, it feels so good. Please …”

“I’m going to fuck you now, _mi amor,_ and you’re going to love it,” John said in the same soft, intense voice, and then he began to push in very slowly. Alex had never been more ready for anything. John reached around him, his fingers slick with more lube and began to stroke him, then pushed all the way into him and began to move, his hand keeping pace, and Alex became completely unaware of anything except John – John warm against his back, John breathing hard onto his neck, John in him, over him, around him, filling him and stimulating every part of his body capable of response, and when he came, it was harder and stronger than it had ever been. John held onto him and thrust deep into him one more time, finishing with an inarticulate shout, his fingers digging into Alex’s shoulders so hard that there would surely be bruises.

John pulled away gently, disposed of the condom, and wrapped his arms around Alex. “Okay?” he asked softly.

“Okay? Jesus fuck, John, I think I may have died and gone to heaven.”

John gave a satisfied little chuckle. “That’s good,” he murmured.

Alex pressed as close to him as he could. “I love you, John Laurens,” he said.

“I love you too, Alexander Hamilton,” John replied sleepily.

*          *          *          *          *

They slept in the next morning, and John went out for fresh bagels and cream cheese. They ate them on the couch with Saturday morning cartoons on TV with the volume down.

“It feels like vacation,” Alex said, licking cream cheese off his fingers. “No papers due, all caught up on my reading.”

“It is vacation,” John reminded him. “Spring break.”

“I never had a spring break before. I mean, school would close for a week, but I was always working, at least from the time I was twelve. This is nice.”

“And we’re going to the Met today,” John reminded him.

“Yeah, to see the angel. It’s in the Cloisters actually, up in Fort Tryon Park. We can take a bus.”

“I have a car.”

“I keep forgetting. I never lived with anybody who had a car.”

There was a pause, and then John asked, “Is that your way of telling me you’re moving in?”

Alex sat up quickly, talking fast. “Oh, God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I was just …”

“Because I was going to suggest it anyway,” John continued calmly.

“… thinking about cars, and … Wait, what?”

“It would be nice if you moved in here.”

“Really? _Really?_ ”

“Yeah, what do you think?”

“I would like that.” Alex blinked a few times. “I get a housing allowance as part of my scholarship if I move off campus, so I can help pay, but I wouldn’t be able to pay for half because this is such a nice place, but maybe we could find some place cheaper, and then I could …”

“Alex?”

“Mm?”

“Please shut up.”

Alex nodded, chewing his lip.

John sighed. “Okay, talk if you have to, but not about money. We’ve already had that conversation.”

Alex nodded again. “What if I’m obnoxious?” he asked.

“Everybody’s obnoxious sometimes,” John told him. “We can deal with one another.”

“I’d get to sleep with you,” Alex said, weighing pros and cons.

“Every night,” John agreed.

“You’re sure it’s a good idea?”

John laughed, “I haven’t been sure that anything’s a good idea in years, but – you know, why not? I’m happier when you’re here, and anyway, if you live here, I can keep an eye on you. Make sure you get enough sleep, that sort of thing.”

“If it doesn’t work out …”

“Alex, trying to figure out what might happen in the future is pointless. We love each other, and we like being together, and we get along most of the time. Even when we don’t, we can work things out, right? So why should we waste months or years that we could have together waiting until some ‘perfect’ time?”

“Seize the day?”

“If you say so. I was going to ask you before summer anyway, so why not now?”

“Okay, then. I’ve already got about half my clothes here.”

“We’ll move the rest of your stuff a little at a time since you’ve got the dorm room until the end of the semester.”

Alex nodded and drank some more coffee. “It’s a little scary to be happy,” he said.

“It’s actually a lot scary to be happy,” John corrected him, “but we’re doing it together.”

After breakfast, John drove them uptown to the Cloisters, the separate section of the Met that housed medieval art. Alex knew exactly where he was going. He led John to a quiet gallery and gestured diffidently to a rather small painting. According to the printed sign, it was called the Mérode Altarpiece.

John stared at it, leaning in close to study it from different angles. “It’s nice,” he said finally, his head tilted a little. “I mean, the perspective is whack, but that’s kind of cool too. That’s the angel, huh?”

“Yeah.” Now that they were there, Alex was a little embarrassed that he’d ever mentioned it.

“I’m better looking than he is.”

“Definitely, but your hair is the same.”

John smiled. “Yeah, I can see it.” He put his arm around Alex’s shoulders. “You are so fucking cute I can’t stand it.”

Alex blushed and ducked his head. “What?”

“You came in here when we were – what? Broken up? Mad at each other? Whatever it was, and you saw this painting and you thought of me. How is that not the most adorable thing ever?”

Alex turned even brighter red. “I just … even then, I was thinking about you all the time,” he said, his voice so low John had to bend to hear him.

John glanced around the almost-empty room and then leaned in and gave Alex a quick, unexpected kiss.

Alex laughed. “Look at you, being out in public and all.”

“You make me brave, _mi amor.”_ He turned to scrutinize the painting again. “Do they have a gift shop here?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I think we should get a print of this and hang it up in our apartment.”

The frame cost more than the print, and more than Alex spent on food in a month, but John didn’t care. They hung it on the living room wall across from the door so it was the first thing anyone saw when they walked in. John sat down on the couch, hammer still in his hand, and smiled at it affectionately.

“That’s the first thing we bought together for our apartment,” he said.

Alex leaned on his shoulder. “It looks nice. I like it.”

“The angel Gabriel, you said?”

“Archangel,” Alex corrected.

“What’s an archangel?” John asked.

“It’s like a higher-up angel, I think.”

“So a boss angel?”

Alex laughed. “I guess.”

“And this Gabriel is the boss of all the angels?”

“I don’t know. You’re going to have to find somebody who went to church more than I did.”

John smiled. “He can be our guardian angel.”

“Okay.” Alex looked at him inquiringly. “You believe in that?”

“Nope,” John replied, “just covering all the bases.” He put his feet up on the coffee table and considered the picture a little while longer, and then got out his phone. “We should order some dinner and get our stuff together. Gil’s going to be here at six in the morning.”

Alex groaned dramatically. “I don’t want to get up that early.”

“We worked it out. It’s a twenty-hour drive. We’ll do most of it tomorrow, with Gil and me taking turns.”

“How far do you want to get tomorrow?” Alex asked, opening maps on his phone.

“At least as far as Georgia, hopefully Alabama. Then we get up early Monday, and we’re shopping in Louisiana Monday afternoon. We have until Wednesday to buy guns in as many different places as possible, in small towns in Louisiana. We stay away from any chain stores or motels because we don’t want to be identifiable in any big database. We pay cash for everything, and we use as many different combinations of ID’s as possible.”

Alex nodded. “And we put the guns in the trunk under a piece of carpet, right?”

“Yeah, that was Nat’s idea. I got a piece of scrap carpet that pretty much matches the color of the carpet in the car, and I cut it to fit the bottom of my trunk. We'll wrap the guns in old towels so they don’t rattle and lay them inside the trunk, then cover them with the carpet, and pile our suitcases on top of that. If we have the bad luck to get stopped, they probably won’t even realize there’s a false bottom in the trunk. We’re just three college boys on spring break.”

“Why the hell would three college boys from New York be spending spring break in rural Louisiana?”

“We’re on our way to see Gil’s pretend girlfriend in New Orleans. She has sisters he wants us to meet.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “We all have to be able to lie with a straight face.”

John grinned. “I’m good at that.”

*          *          *          *          *

They left shortly after six in the morning. Alex, sitting in the back seat with his phone, spent the day researching every sporting goods store that they’d be able to get to. Ideally, they’d buy no more than two guns at any one location, but they’d have to see how it went. They stopped for as few breaks as possible, ate in the car, and finally got off the interstate just west of Chattanooga. It was almost dark when they pulled into a tired-looking Mom and Pop motel in Bridgeport, Alabama.

 _“Très classe,”_ Gil commented sarcastically.

“Sorry, the Ritz didn’t have any vacancies,” Alex told him.

They went in to register, and they were all tired and rumpled enough after fifteen hours in the car to look like exactly what they claimed to be, college students on spring break. The room they were given was small, but it had two beds and was reasonably clean. They threw their bags on the floor and Gil headed for the shower.

“Do we have any food?” Alex asked plaintively.

“We had dinner,” John reminded him, handing over his last granola bar.

“That was hours ago.” Alex sat on the bed, which sagged and creaked. “Oh, great,” he muttered.

“Eat your granola bar,” John told him. “You’re cranky.”

“I _know_.” He got up and tried the other bed, but it was just as noisy. He bounced a few times and made an exasperated face. “How are we going to sleep with these creaky springs?”

“I don’t know how you’re going to sleep,” John told him, “but I’m too tired to let a little noise like that bother me.”

Gil came out of the bathroom in his boxers and announced, “The water is not very hot.”

“Me next,” John yelled and dashed into the bathroom before Alex had a chance.

“I’m going to take a cold shower tonight, aren’t I?” Alex muttered.

Gil gave him a sympathetic smile. “You have to remember why we are here.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Which bed do you want?”

Gil looked back and forth between the two identical beds and shrugged. _“Ça m’est égal.”_

“Take that one, then, since I’m already sitting here. They both squeak, by the way.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m very tired.”

“It was a long day,” Alex agreed.

“Even more so if one was driving,” Gil pointed out.

“John said I could drive his car on this trip, but not on the interstate. Maybe tomorrow.”

That wasn’t news Gil was hoping to hear, but he was too tired to argue. _“Bonne nuit,”_ he said with a vague wave and crawled under the thin blankets.

Alex had been right. There was no hot water left by the time he got into the shower, and he was freezing – he claimed – when he got into bed. John was still awake because he knew he would have to listen to Alex’s ranting, but after the first few sentences, he pulled Alex close to him and tucked the blankets around him as tightly as he could. He whispered, “Sh, you’re okay. I’ll keep you warm.” Eventually Alex stopped complaining and his voice got sleepy, and then stopped altogether. John kissed him softly and went to sleep, and if the bed creaked, it didn’t wake him up.

The phones went off at six in the morning, and they were in the car by six thirty, Alex swearing that if they didn’t find a Starbucks, he was going to lose his mind. As it turned out, the nearest Starbucks was nearly forty miles away in the wrong direction, so John pulled into a roadside café and hoped for the best. They lucked out. The coffee was excellent, and the muffins weren’t bad, so they got back on the road feeling more alert and, at least in Alex’s case, less irritable.

“It’s good to know that they have coffee down here,” he said.

“Alex, we’re still in the same country,” John reminded him.

“I know, but it’s – it’s really different from New York.”

“Everywhere is different from New York except Paris and London,” Gil said, “and maybe Tokyo, but I have not been there. But you should remember that if we end up fighting with these guns we have come here to buy, we will be fighting for everyone, not just the people of New York.”

Alex flushed, and was silent for a few miles. Then he said. “Thank you for reminding me of that, Gil. You’re absolutely right, and if you have to remind me again, please do. Sometimes I get too stuck in my own head.”

Gil looked over his shoulder and smiled. “I have noticed that. I will not hesitate to speak – what is the expression? – speak my mind. I am not a shy person.”

At around nine o’clock, they were on a stretch of country road with no houses visible, and John pulled over, got out of the car, and opened the back door. “Come on, Alex,” he said. “Your turn to drive.”

Gil immediately got out of the passenger seat and into the back, and Alex settled himself behind the wheel. He took way more time than he needed to adjust the mirrors and check the turn signals. With John calmly giving him instructions, he pulled onto the road and gradually accelerated. After a few minutes, he was smiling. “I think I’m getting the hang of this.”

That lasted until the first stop sign, when he slammed the brakes on. Luckily, there was no one behind them, but Gil swore in French for the next five miles. When it was time to turn, he didn’t slow down enough, and took the turn too widely, ending up in the wrong lane. John corrected him gently and pointed out that if another car had been coming, they would have hit it.

“I do not wish to die on a back road of whatever God-forsaken state we are in,” Gil said.

“Weren’t you the guy reminding me of how this is still part of our country?” Alex asked.

“My life was not in danger then.”

“Shut up, both of you,” John said. “Alex, concentrate on your driving. Gil, you’re not going to die.”

“ _Oui, Papa,”_ Gil muttered.

“I understood that!”

Alex drove until they crossed the Alabama-Mississippi state line and approached the outskirts of another town, when Gil took over with a sigh of relief. They stopped for lunch and John calculated that they would be in Louisiana by two o’clock. They crossed the Mississippi River into Arkansas and turned due south, and a little after three o’clock, several miles into Louisiana, Gil pulled into the gravel parking lot of a hunting supplies store that looked like it had been there for the last fifty years.

John twisted his hair into a pony tail and put on a beat-up South Carolina State baseball cap. “Gil, you wait here. Only two of us in any given store. Alex, pay attention. I speak Southern, and I’ve shopped for guns before, so learn how to do it.”

Alex took him seriously. “I speak three languages. I should be able to learn an accent.”

It took less than half an hour. John put the guns in the trunk, and Alex reported to Gil. “You should have seen John,” he said excitedly. “He turned into total red-neck boy.”

“Red-neck?” Gil queried as John backed out of the parking lot.

“Don’t listen to him, Gil,” John advised. “First of all, never use the term red-neck, and especially in the South. You either, Alex,” he added sternly.

“Sorry,” Alex said contritely. “I was just impressed with your ability to be so … um … Southern.”

John rolled his eyes. “I’m from South Carolina.”

“Yeah, but you hardly have any accent, usually, and in New York, you’re not as, I don’t know, talkative?”

“If you went to Puerto Rico tomorrow, would you speak English and act exactly the same way you act in New York?”

“Oh.” Alex was quiet for a minute, and then he smiled. “Code-switching.”

“Yep.”

Alex turned to Gil to explain, and Gil understood immediately. “It is not just languages, right? Because when I speak French with Monsieur and Madame Gérard, it is not the same as when I speak French with you.”

“Exactly. Language is part of it, but it’s more about attitude. You probably use a lot more slang when you talk to me than when you talk to the Gérards.”

Gil nodded. “Yes. Do you think I can learn this Southern code?”

Alex shrugged. “Maybe. They still speak a lot of French in New Orleans, so maybe you can pick up that accent. See what you can find.”

Within a few minutes, Gil was on YouTube, repeating Cajun pronunciations of French words as they headed through the heavily wooded countryside to another small town. John turned onto a narrow side road, then pulled over close to a fence.

“Get out, Alex,” he said. “I need to get something from under your seat.”

Alex stood outside, leaning against the car, while John reached under the passenger side seat and pulled out a plastic document envelope. Alex saw that it had two Velcro strips on it. John opened it and removed three driver’s licenses. “Here you go,” he said, handing them to Alex and Gil. “Remember who you are. Give me the other ones.” He placed the current three fake licenses in the envelope and put it back, pressing it up so that it stuck to the bottom of the seat.

“You are so damn smart,” Alex commented admiringly.

“I would say instead that you have a genius for criminal activity,” Gil said.

John just laughed and gave Alex the keys. “You drive for a while.”

When they’d gone another ten miles or so, John asked Alex casually, “What’s your name?”

“What? Oh, right, Tim Williams.”

“Yeah, try not to forget. How about you?” he added to Gil.

“I am Marc Richard, and I was conveniently born in Louisiana. Also, I can pronounce this name in either English or French.”

“Exactly.”

Gil looked at John thoughtfully. “You figured this all out ahead of time?”

John shrugged. “I talked to Nat and Ben about it. Ben’s been studying the uses of aliases and codes, so he had some good ideas, but I made sure that all your ID’s can work in either English or French. That’s a lot easier than insisting you lose all trace of your accent when you’ve only been here a couple of years. You’re going to be either Canadian or Cajun for a while.”

“I can do that.”

“Good. Now, do you think we can let Alex drive into town and make the turn into a parking lot?”

Gil considered for a minute. “I suppose. The only problem is that if he kills me, I’ll be buried in this state, but I am willing to make that sacrifice.”

“Very funny,” Alex snapped, but he paid careful attention to his driving and managed to get them into the parking lot of Vic’s Sporting Goods without any mishap. This time Gil went in with John, and they managed again with no difficulty.

They visited one more gun store, and by dinner time, they had six rifles and twelve boxes of ammunition in the trunk. Once again, they drove off into miles and miles of pine forest, and then John turned suddenly down a rutted dirt track and parked the car behind a tumbledown abandoned barn. They pulled the false bottom out of the trunk, wrapped the guns in the old towels hidden there, put the carpet back, and placed their duffle bags on top.

“Looks damn good,” Alex commented.

John nodded. “If anybody looks in the trunk casually, we’ll be fine,” he said. “Of course, if they do a serious search, we’re fucked, but that’s not likely to happen. Let’s go get something to eat.”

They had a decent meal at May-May’s Fried Chicken, and Alex was delighted to find that May-May made a variety of pies. When they got to the Sleepy Pines motel fifteen miles farther south, John shuffled their ID’s again before they registered. They were all beginning to realize how exhausting it was to be in a state of constant alertness, literally having difficulty remembering what their names were at any given moment. They were tired, and Alex, for one, was looking forward to getting back to New York.

“I get to shower first,” he announced when they got to the room. The Sleepy Pines was a step up from the last motel. The towels and blankets were thicker and there seemed to be enough hot water. Alex put on his flannel pajama pants and a long-sleeved sweatshirt, and sat down next to Gil while John went to shower.

“How do you sleep in all those clothes?” Gil asked.

“What, do you always sleep in just your underwear?”

“No, usually not even that. I’m just being modest because we are sharing a room.”

Alex laughed. “I would freeze to death.”

Gil raised an eyebrow. “So even when you are not sleeping alone …?”

Alex leaned back and looked up at him. “Why do you ask?”

“Curiosity. It is none of my business.”

“Maybe not at the moment ...”

“What do you mean by that?”

Alex touched his hand lightly. “If you ever wanted to find out …”

Gil smiled and shook his head. _“Non, je suis hétéro.”_

_“Tu es sûr?”_

_“Tout à fait.”_

“You’re not shocked?”

“It’s not the first time.”

“That’s what you get for being so cute.”

“What about John?” Gil asked.

“I love John,” Alex told him.

“And yet …”

Alex shrugged. “It’s not the same thing.”

“Does John know that?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Maybe you should find out for sure.”

“Maybe.” Alex reached up to twist his fingers into Gil’s hair and pulled his face closer. He leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. Gil didn’t resist, but he didn’t respond, either. Alex sighed.

When John came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, Alex was on the other bed alone. Gil raised his eyebrows and looked at Alex questioningly. John waited for a moment, knowing something was different. When neither of them said anything, he asked bluntly, “What’s up?”

Alex flushed, “Gil wants me to tell you …” he began.

John laughed. “Don’t tell me you suggested a threesome.”

“Not exactly.”

John’s laughter faded to a rueful smile, and he turned to Gil. “I figured it would happen sooner or later.”

Gil nodded. “He said he thought you knew.”

“That my Alex is not likely to be monogamous? Yeah.”

“You guys are okay?” Gil asked.

“Yeah,” John responded.

“Good, then I will take a shower. A long shower, because maybe you want to talk.” He disappeared into the bathroom.

John sat down next to Alex and took his hand. Alex’s eyes were filled with tears.

“When you were gone,” John said, “when I didn’t see you for weeks, I knew you were with somebody else. That wasn’t what I was upset about.”

“No?” Alex asked, his voice catching.

“Oh, I wasn’t happy about it, but it wasn’t the worst. What really hurt me was that you treated me like I didn’t matter. The girl – Maria – she wasn’t really that important.”

“I’ve never – but I could try, John. I don’t want you to be unhappy.”

 _“Oh, mi amor,”_ John said softly, putting his arms around Alex and holding him. “What would happen to us if I insisted that you turn into somebody else?”

“You’re okay with it?”

John shrugged. “If I made you be different, then you wouldn’t be the man I fell in love with. It’s not that I love only parts of you, I love you, the whole person that you are.”

“I love you so much,” Alex said, tears spilling over.

John wiped the tears off Alex’s cheek with his thumb. “A suggestion, though,” he murmured.

“What?”

“Not Gil, you idiot. He’s totally straight.”

Alex choked on a laugh. “That’s what he told me.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Mérode altarpiece really exists and is really at the Cloisters. The Archangel Gabriel in the painting really has hair that looks very much like Anthony Ramos's, so I thought it needed to be in this story.  
> I always appreciate kudos and especially comments, and I'd love to hear what you think of this story. Tell me what it needs -- more fluff? More angst? More violence? Different/more ships?  
> I have an outline but it's flexible. Let me know what you like.  
> Thanks and lots of love to everybody who's still reading.


	21. Raises the Stakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex, John, and Gil complete their buying trip and get to know each other better. Back in New York, they meet again with Ben and Nat, discussing weapons and communications. Angelica and Eliza have some news from home. Other breaking news is upsetting.

They spent Tuesday and Wednesday traveling throughout Louisiana, avoiding cities and large towns and doing all their purchasing at small independent gun stores. They shuffled and reshuffled their ID’s, used an assortment of different colored baseball hats, all with logos of southern schools or teams, along with a variety of tee shirts, sweat shirts and hoodies. Gil and John sometimes wore their hair loose, sometimes pulled back into a ponytail. John surprised Alex and Gil by changing out the license plates on the Acura a couple of times, so that if anybody was checking, the car might have originated in New York, in Virginia, or in Tennessee.

“Where’d you get the license plates?” Alex asked.

“Nat sent them to Betsy’s in the bottom of a box of maple sugar. Sugar’s already pretty heavy, so it wasn’t a problem.”

“I wonder where Nat got them,” Gil mused.

“Probably better if we don’t know,” John told him.

By Thursday morning, they had seventeen rifles and six handguns with plenty of ammunition for all of them concealed in the trunk. “We could have gotten more if we had room for them,” Alex said regretfully.

“Maybe better not to push our luck,” John advised. “We can do this again, or other people can. This was as much an experiment as anything else, to be sure the ID’s were good, that we could get in and out without too many questions.”

“It all worked.”

“We’re not home yet,” Gil reminded him.

They left Louisiana early on Thursday morning, finally escaping the back roads and getting back on the interstate in Georgia, and then making pretty good time. They were all taking turns driving now, John having decided that Alex had practiced enough to do his share.

“Are Ben and Nat both coming on Saturday?” John asked. “I know Ben’s bringing Betsy’s van up from that Crazy Tony guy in Philly, but was Nat going to meet him in New York? I don’t know if he wants the license plates back or not.”

“If he’s not, Ben can take them,” Alex said. “I haven’t talked to anybody either.”

Ben had ordered them not to communicate with anyone by phone except in an emergency. It was strange not texting their friends regularly, but they knew they had to learn to be careful. At times, it all seemed silly to Alex, as if they were a bunch of kids playing spies, but then he remembered President Washington’s face as he had spoken to them. Things had already begun to change. As much as he despised Blodman, he wouldn’t have wished this kind of fate on him. He hadn’t mentioned to anyone else his belief that Blodman wasn’t the victim of a stroke, but of some sort of foul play. He was sure he couldn’t be the only one who thought that, but he didn’t know whether to bring it up to Ben or Angelica. He’d see how things went on Saturday. It would be good to be back in New York, using his own name and able to relax.

They traveled on through the Carolinas and got off the interstate a few miles north of Charlottesville, Virginia, looking for another small town. They found one with another independent motel in need of fresh paint across the street from yet another restaurant advertising home-style Southern cooking.

“I’m going to miss Southern food,” Alex declared, working his way through the fried chicken and biscuits platter.

“I’ll make you shrimp and grits sometime,” John promised.

“What is grits?” Gil asked.

John started to explain, but Gil interrupted him. “So it is not fried?”

“No.”

“Ah, that is interesting,” Gil said. “I thought all food in the South was fried.”

“Fried chicken is great!” Alex told him.

“Mm,” Gil responded, poking a fork at his plate. _“Il est très croustillant.”_

“But that’s a good thing.”

Alex was the only one who wanted dessert, so he took his pecan pie to go, and they crossed the street to the motel. John checked the remaining distance on his phone.

“Six, maybe six and a half hours tomorrow, and we’re home,” he said. “Back to classes on Monday.”

“And then only seven more weeks in the semester,” Alex remarked. He turned to Gil, “Are you going back to France this summer?”

Gil shook his head. “No, there is an opportunity to do a sort of internship at the medical school. It’s all observation, of course, not participation, but I think I would like to do that instead.”

“Cool, you’ll be around for the summer.”

“And you? What are your plans?”

“I’ll probably take a couple of classes …”

“Really?” John interrupted. “This is the first I’m hearing about it.”

“I was just thinking,” Alex told him.

John smiled. “You need to keep busy. I’ll just be hanging around drawing pictures while you’re studying advance international economic theory or something.”

“Whatever,” Alex said, opening his to-go box. “Anybody want some of my pie?”

 “No, not really,” John responded. “I’m not hungry after all that fried stuff.”

“ _Non, merci,”_ Gil echoed. “American pie is very sweet.”

“You guys are _so damned picky,”_ Alex said through a bite of pie. “The chicken is too fried, the pie is too sweet, half the human race isn’t worth dating …” He looked up mischievously from under his eyelashes first at John, then at Gil.

_“Ta gueule,”_ Gil told him, trying not to laugh.

_“Cállate,”_ John ordered, leaning over to smack his arm.

Alex swallowed his mouthful of pie and grinned. “Just saying …”

John looked at Gil and raised an eyebrow. Gil nodded and grabbed the pie out of Alex’s hand and held it over his head, nearly a foot out of Alex’s reach.

“Say sorry or Gil takes your pie outside and tosses it,” John directed.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Alex yelled, still trying to jump high enough.

Gil handed him back the pie, and John grinned. “He gives up really fast if we have food.”

Gil nodded. “Yes. This is very useful information.”

Alex was scarfing down the rest of the pie before they got any more ideas. “Shut up,” he mumbled, dropping a few crumbs. “I’ll get you back.”

John and Gil smiled at each other over his head.

*          *          *          *          *

About an hour south of New York City, Alex, who was in the back seat, asked for John and Gil’s phones. He went over them carefully, erasing the search and navigation histories, as he had already done with his own.

“I think they’re okay,” he said, handing them back, “but I’m going to check with Ben. I need to get him to show me how to cover my tracks better online. There’s so much I don’t know about technology.”

John was driving, trying to be patient while navigating the New Jersey Turnpike. “So could somebody find stuff about this trip in our phones? Could they tell from the GPS that we had been in Louisiana?” he asked.

“Well, I couldn’t,” Alex told him, “but that doesn’t mean much. That’s what I have to ask Ben about.”

His own phone signaled a text just then and he looked at the screen. It was from Patty: “Meet me and Nat at Betsy’s, 10:00 tomorrow morning. New scones.” Alex narrowed his eyes as he read it aloud. “I don’t think this is really about scones,” he said.

It wasn’t. At ten o’clock the next morning, he and John showed up at Betsy’s to find plenty of customers, but no one he knew. Betsy and Deb were behind the counter.

“Hey, good to see you,” Betsy said with a smile. “I hope you can get that mixer to work. Come on back.” She signaled them to follow her to the kitchen, and they did. They’d never been in the kitchen before, and of course they knew they weren’t there to repair a mixer. They went through the small kitchen to an inconspicuous door in the cinderblock wall, which Betsy opened for them. “Welcome to our new conference room,” she announced with a grin.

Ben, Nat, Patty, and Mark were seated around what looked like an old kitchen table. The room was small, but there were a couple of upholstered chairs against the opposite wall and a floor lamp in the corner.

“What do you think?” Ben asked, standing up.

“This is very cool,” Alex responded, looking around. “When did you decide on this?”

“Ben and I talked about it when he came to pick up the van,” Betsy said. “If you guys are going to be having regular meetings, it’s better if they’re not out in public.” She pointed at the back wall. “There’s a door into the alley. I’m getting more keys.”

“I told Betsy we’re going to help her out with rent,” Ben said. “This was her storage room, and she’s had to rearrange everything to clear it out. Now she’s trusting us all with keys, so the least we can do is pay a little something every month.”

“Definitely,” Alex agreed, just as Betsy said, “No.”

Ben shrugged. “As you see, the discussion is still ongoing.”

There was the sound of a bell from out front. “That’s Deb signaling that somebody else is here for the meeting,” Betsy said, as she left the room.

“When did you guys get this set up?” John asked.

“I came in on Thursday,” Nat told them, “and Ben got here yesterday around noon. Patty and Mark and I had already moved the supplies around and shopped the Goodwill store for furniture, so all Ben had to do was supervise.”

“Which I did,” Ben acknowledged.

Betsy returned with Herc, Gil, Angelica, and Eliza, then went back to work, reminding Patty and Mark to take good notes.

Angelica looked around the room, then threw herself into one of the upholstered chairs. “I have news!” she declared dramatically.

_“We_ have news,” Eliza corrected her, taking the other comfortable chair.

John sat on the floor. “So go ahead and tell us.”

The Schuyler sisters looked at one another. “You tell them,” Eliza said.

“Well,” Angelica began, “as you know, we went home for spring break …”

“Whatever it is, spit it out,” Alex told her. “We don’t need a big build-up.”

“Mom’s pregnant,” Angelica announced.

There was a moment of stunned silence, then John said tentatively, “Congratulations, I think,”

“I’m not sure myself,” Angelica responded.

“Are your parents okay with it?” Alex asked.

“Yeah,” Eliza nodded. “Actually, Dad’s over the moon. They’re just really surprised.”

“Um, how old is your mom?” Patty inquired.

“Forty-three,” Angelica replied. “The doctor says she’s fine, and that everything is progressing normally. The baby’s due in November. It’s just – you know, kind of weird. I mean, I have no memory of existing without Eliza, and I can barely remember when Peggy was born, so to have a baby brother or sister when I’m twenty seems really strange.”

“How’s Peggy taking it?” John wanted to know.

Eliza laughed. “Let’s just say she has mixed feelings. She has to give up her position as the youngest and join me in the boring middle.”

Alex had been considering the available information. “I don’t understand how they could be surprised,” he commented.

Eliza raised her eyebrow at him. “You’re seriously going to go there?”

“Well, they’ve got three kids. I’m pretty sure they know where babies come from.”

“Shut up, Alex,” Nat ordered from his seat at the table.

“I just …”

John reached over and grabbed Alex’s ankle, pulling him off balance and almost onto the floor. “Listen to Nat,” he said.

“Why are people always trying to shut me up?” Alex grumbled. No one answered him.

“Okay, we have stuff to talk about,” Ben declared.

“You calling the meeting to order?” Alex asked, still annoyed that nobody wanted him to talk.

“We’re not doing parliamentary procedure,” Ben told him.

“Well, damn, because I know all the rules.”

John clapped his hand over Alex’s mouth. “Sorry,” he said to Ben. “Some days I can’t do a thing with him.”

“Did you just spend four days in a car with him?”

“And me also,” Gil put in.

Ben shook his head. “I don’t know how you didn’t leave him by the side of the road somewhere in Alabama.”

Alex managed to force John’s hand off his mouth. “We got guns,” he announced, and everybody finally started to listen to him.

Betsy’s van was parked in the alley, and Ben took them out to show them where the storage had been added. They would be able to transport guns, ammunition, or anything else without being detected.

“Crazy Tony is good at this,” Ben said. “We ought to get him to add concealed storage to our cars. He’s got his SUV fitted with all kinds of compartments.”

John opened and shut one of the storage units in the floor of the van, running his hand over the join. “He’s in Philly, right? I’ll take my car down as soon as I can.”

“Good. Get Alex to text him to arrange it. If anybody starts to track our calls, it’s normal that Alex would stay in touch with somebody he met while he was interning, but it would be unlikely that you would be texting him.”

“Got it.”

Back inside, Ben caught them up on what he was hearing from some of the others. Ethan and Frank, in areas where much of the population hunted, were having no trouble getting arms. TJ and some of the people he had recruited were going to take a trip similar to the one Alex, Gil, and John had just completed and split the guns they acquired with Tony’s group in Philadelphia.

“Who already knows how to shoot?” Ben asked, and John was the only one who raised his hand.

“Damn. The rest of you are going to have to learn.”

“How?” Eliza wanted to know. “And why, really? Do you honestly think there’s going to be some kind of shooting-in-the-streets war?”

Ben met her eyes steadily. “Yes,” he said, “I do.”

Eliza sat back and looked over at her sister. Angelica was excited. She wanted to learn how to handle a gun. Eliza wasn’t even sure any of this was real. Not that she doubted that Alex and the others had heard President Washington warn of some sort of impending crisis, but that they thought it would be something that would have to be handled with guns rather than votes. Sometimes it seemed like they were ten-year-olds playing soldiers. She looked over at the table. Gil and John had their heads together, looking up gun clubs and shooting ranges on their phones. No more than two of them could go to any one place, Ben had said, so they needed to find at least four or five. Nat and Patty had their heads together, too, she noticed, but it didn’t look like they were doing research. Nat and Patty? She liked both of them, and it would be good to know that Patty had moved on from her hopeless infatuation with John. _Maybe I should move on,_ she thought. _I could if I wanted to. I’m just not ready yet._

Alex was hanging over John’s shoulder, his brown eyes sparkling with excitement. Gil said something to him in French, and he laughed, and as he did, he saw Eliza watching him. He grinned and winked at her, and he was surprised when she turned away without a response. She started talking to Angelica about gun clubs that were conveniently located, and it wasn’t until a while later, when Betsy had brought back scones and coffee for them to take a break, that she and Alex spoke to one another. Angelica was talking to Betsy about Catherine’s pregnancy, and Alex came up next to her, catching her by surprise.

“We okay?” he asked her softly, making her heart turn over.

“Sure,” she responded, forcing a smile.

“Thought maybe I’d put my foot in it, talking about your parents.”

She shook her head. “I know better than to expect tact from you, Alex.”

“John’s trying to teach me good Southern-boy manners.”

“I wish him luck.”

Alex smiled. “He’ll need it.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “Seriously, though, I think your parents are wonderful, and I didn’t mean to say anything that sounded otherwise.”

“I know,” she said. “Don’t worry. They like you too, but I think John’s their favorite.”

“They like John better than me?” he asked, raising his voice so John would hear him.

“They do,” Eliza told him, looking over at John. “Actually, I think they like him better than me, Ange, and Peggy too.”

John, still getting used to the idea that anybody found him lovable, denied that, and they continued the fake argument for a while over coffee.

“Maybe next Christmas, I should also visit your family,” Gil suggested. “Your parents will like me more than either Alex or John.”

“No,” Angelica told him, “I don’t think anybody’s going to replace John in my mom’s affections, but Peggy might think you’re cute – or maybe you could play with the new baby.”

Gil nodded thoughtfully. “I like children.”

“I’ll be sure to check with Mom about it before Christmas,” Angelica promised.

“Okay, one more thing,” Ben announced, calling them back to order. “We’re working on codes. Lydia and I think our best method is going to be old-school paper letters. Phones and computers are too easy to hack and too hard to wipe. That doesn’t mean we’ll never use them, but we want to keep it to a minimum. We’re working out a code where all names of people and places will be coded as three-digit numbers. If I want to say something like Ethan is going to Philadelphia to meet with Tony, I can write 322 is going to 796 to meet with 401. There’s no information there that anyone can understand. We’re going to see how that works, do some practice communications before we make a final decision. We would all use the same code, but we would all have to memorize it. We can’t have written copies around.”

“How many numbers are you talking about?” Herc asked.

“I’m not going to lie; it will be a lot. The numbers will also be random, no clues from Zip codes or phone numbers or anything like that.”

“Okay,” Herc said. “Can you get them out a few at a time? That would make it easier.”

“Let me talk to Lydia, but, yeah, I don’t see why not. Obviously, we’ll have to have a written code list at first, but you’ll memorize fast and burn your copies. Burn, not tear into pieces or anything else. They have to be completely destroyed.”

They all agreed. Mark started clearing the empty coffee cups and John was talking to Ben about when he should bring the Audi around to the alley to transfer some of the guns. Eliza was telling Angelica that she was going to knit a blanket for the new baby. Patty was looking up at Nat and smiling, and he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. Herc had just asked Alex and Gil about their trip to Louisiana when Alex’s phone started dinging. At almost exactly the same time, Ben’s and Nat’s went off too.

“Breaking news alert,” Alex said, frowning as he opened his news app. His face went pale as he read it.

Patty, looking over Nat’s shoulder at his phone, burst into tears.

“Mother-fucking son of a bitch!” Ben yelled and punched the wall.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, something has happened for sure. What is it?  
> Patty and Nat? I think they're a cute couple.  
> Who's right about the shooting in the streets, Eliza or Ben?  
> Thanks for all comments and kudos. I love hearing from you. Tell me what you think!


	22. Who Lives, Who Dies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and his friends have to deal with a national tragedy. The aftermath focuses them, especially Nat, Patty, and Gil, in new directions. Changes in laws bring conflict. Alex deals with a political disagreement.

The Washingtons, wealthy private citizens now after George's decades of public service, had decided to do what anybody else in their situation would have done -- go to Disney World for the grandchildren’s spring break. It was a family trip: George and Martha, their son Parker, who had recently announced his candidacy for a House seat from Virginia, Parker's wife Ellie, and their two little girls, Lily, 10, and Marnie, 7. For a week, Lily and Marnie had giggled and pirouetted with Belle and Aurora while their parents and grandparents took countless photos and videos. Magazines would later publish some of those pictures that Ellie had posted to her Facebook page, and the nation wept over Lily smiling up at Princess Jasmine, and Marnie, her broad grin showing the gap where her second teeth were just coming in, hugging Minnie.

For their vacation, the Washingtons had chartered a private plane flown by Chris Attucks, 51, a man they knew well. As an Air Force colonel, he had piloted Air Force One during Washington’s first term. When he retired, he began flying for a charter company owned by two other highly-decorated former military pilots. Attucks was a genial man with iron-gray hair and a ready smile. He had three teenage children of his own, and had known Lily and Marnie since they were babies. The Washingtons had complete confidence in him.

The plane had gone down in the Uwharrie National Forest, just west of Troy, North Carolina. There were no survivors.

When the NTSB report was finally released, the finding was “pilot error.” According to the report, Attucks had elected to fly through strong turbulence rather than change altitude and avoid it. Everyone who knew Chris Attucks, especially those who had served with him, protested vehemently. One of the owners of the charter company wrote a passionate defense in an Op-Ed for the _New York Times._ “Turbulence, even very severe turbulence, doesn’t cause planes to crash,” he said.

“Pilots don’t know everything,” President King had responded with a sad face.

But the NTSB report and the Op-Ed were yet to come. Now, this week, the nation was grief-stricken, gathered around televisions in homes and at work. An entire family had been wiped out. Martha had been an only child. George’s two older brothers, both childless, had predeceased him. There was no family left. It fell to close friends like Zain Akhdir and Jonathan Dayton to make funeral arrangements.

The joint funeral service for the Washington family was televised from the National Cathedral. The Washingtons, life-long Episcopalians, had worshiped there. The entire world listened to eulogies given by former Vice-President Akhdir, by Senator Mercy Warren of Massachusetts, by Peyton Randolph, and heartbreakingly, by Ms. Ann Wager, the principal of the elementary school attended by Lily and Marnie Washington. Although President and Mrs. King were at the service, they took no part in it, sitting silently with other government officials in the packed cathedral.

Columbia University, like most schools and colleges in the country, had cancelled classes for the week. Ben and Nat stayed in New York, crashing in Alex’s unused dorm room with the tacit consent of Rob Townsend, the RA. He had listened to Alex’s rapid and emotional explanation, and had finally broken in on the flood of words, “It’s fine, Alex. Just tell them to keep a low profile.”

Alex nodded, biting his lip. “I met President Washington, you know,” he said, his voice shaking. “I did an internship over intersession. That’s how I know Ben and Nat.”

Rob regarded him thoughtfully. “Come see me next week,” he requested. “I want to talk to you. In the meantime, here.” He handed Alex a key card that Ben and Nat could use to get in and out of the dorm.

They were in John’s apartment on Thursday, the day of the funerals, listening to the eulogies and the Bible readings and the solemn music, watching the procession from the cathedral to Arlington with the military escort from all branches of the service. Everybody cried. They’d stop and talk off and on, but the tears always came back. When twelve young soldiers in uniform carried two small white coffins down the cathedral steps, Eliza went to her knees and sobbed her heart out. Angelica, holding her, looked beseechingly at Alex over her sister’s head, and he reached for her hand. They clung together, the three of them huddled on the floor.

John, his face wet with tears, turned to Herc. “The plane crash – it wasn’t an accident.”

Herc shook his head slowly. “No. Parker Washington’s announcement to run for Congress was his death warrant.”

Nat was sitting on the couch, his arm around Patty, holding her tight. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered. “Fucking baby killer.”

Ben had been silent most of the day, his fury simmering under the surface. He and Gil were drinking coffee in the kitchen, watching the TV over the counter.

“Listen to me, please,” Gil said to him. “When Alex told us all this, even when we went to get the guns, I wasn’t sure I believed him. Alex is sometimes, you know, dramatic. But this, now –” he gestured at the TV “— this filth, this _saloperie,_ now I know. I want to stay here. I want to do what I can to help.”

“It would be safer for you to go back to France,” Ben told him.

“Yes,” Gil agreed, “but it would be more useful to kill the _salauds_ who did this. I prefer to be useful.”

Ben met his eyes. “Learn to shoot.”

Gil gave a brief nod. “I start tomorrow.”

*          *          *          *          *

“You never forget who you were with,” Nat said to Patty on Sunday morning. He and Ben were about to leave for New Haven, and he and Patty were taking a few minutes in Betsy’s back room.

Patty looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

“It’s something my granddad said about some important event that he remembered. He could tell you exactly where he was, who he was with, even what the weather was like. He said it was like every detail was burned into his memory. I understand that now. I remember the look on Alex’s face, I remember Eliza grabbing her sister. I remember you crying on my shoulder.” He held her now, and she cried again as he kissed the top of her head and buried his face in her soft brown hair. Her shampoo smelled good, not flowery, but light and clean, like fresh air. He took another deep breath so he would remember it, and then he bent to kiss her for real.

“Not long,” he said. “We’ll be back and forth, and it’s only a couple of hours drive if you need me.”

She nodded, not trusting her voice. He kissed her again, and then he was gone. She stared at the door for a minute, then blew her nose and went to the rest room to wash her face. She was wholeheartedly part of this now, and there was work to do.

Five minutes later, she was serving coffee to Alex and Gil.

“You okay?” Alex asked her.

“Yeah, I’m good. Like Nat says, they’ll be back soon.” Her smile was a little forced, though.

Alex squeezed her hand. “Nat’s a good guy.”

Patty blushed a little and her smile looked more natural. “He really is. He’s cute, too.” She took her tray and went back to the counter to pick up the next order.

“I’ve always thought so,” Alex mused.

“What?” Gil asked, frowning.

“That Nat’s cute.”

Gil put up his hand. “Don’t. Do you know you can be very tiring?”

“I’ve heard that,” Alex responded, “But I don’t believe it. Anyway, you made a good start yesterday.” There was no one else seated near them, and they were able to discuss their visit to the gun range safely. Both of them had done well, but the instructor had been particularly impressed with Gil. “Do you have exceptionally good hand-eye coordination?”

Gil shrugged. “Maybe. It would be helpful, because I am planning to be a surgeon, but I think I may have done well because I want very much to kill them.”

Alex blinked and looked around, even though he knew there was no one else there. “What? Who?”

“King and his supporters. I want to kill them,” Gil said calmly.

“Okay.”

“Bah, what do you think we are doing? Don’t be _naïf,_ Alexander, we are preparing for war. King has murdered children. He deserves to die.”

“Yeah, yeah, I understand,” Alex agreed, nodding. “It’s just hearing it said so bluntly. It kind of took me by surprise. I didn’t … you’re very straightforward.”

Gil drank some coffee and gave Alex a smile over the rim of the cup. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I can lie very well if necessary.”

“And you’re definitely not going back to France?”

“Oh, no. Not now. Not until this is done.”

Alex stirred some more sugar into his coffee. “Do you ever hear from Adrienne?” he asked, remembering the conversation he had overheard the day he met Gil.

Gil shook his head. _“Non, jamais.”_

“You miss her?”

 _“Non,_ but I miss having a girlfriend. _J’aime pas être seul_.”

“Alone or lonely?” Alex asked.

“What?”

“ _Seul_ means both. Nobody likes to be lonely, but some people like to be alone.”

Gil threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “English is much too complicated. Explain to me this nuance.”

“Actually, English is more precise here,” Alex said helpfully. “ _Alone_ just means without other people around. I can be reading a book that I’m enjoying and be perfectly content to be alone. _Lonely_ means that you want someone else with you, usually some person in particular. Sometimes you can feel lonely even in a crowd.”

Gil reflected for a few minutes. “As a child, I was without other children, and so I was sad. That is lonely, _non?_ ”

“Yes.”

“But I can say I am watching TV alone and it just means that there is no one else in the room with me?”

“Exactly.”

Gil nodded as if it was clear to him now. “But I do not like to watch TV alone.”

“Are there things you like to do alone?”

He shook his head. “Not really. That is one of the reasons I miss having a girlfriend.”

“I can understand that,” Alex said.

“Also,” Gil continued, “I like sex.”

“Okay, yeah, good to know,” Alex responded, gulping down some coffee.

“But not with you,” Gil added quickly, and laughed at Alex’s face.

*          *          *          *          *

Classes resumed on Monday, and everyone tried hard to act as if things were normal. Around mid-morning, the internet and TV began announcing that President King would be giving a major speech that evening, and that it would be carried by all of the networks. Alex made sure that everyone got the word, and they agreed to meet in John’s apartment. The speech was to be at eight, and they gathered at seven. Eliza brought a double batch of brownies, and John made two big pans of lasagna. Mark and Betsy were working, but Patty was there, along with Deb and Johan.

They all expected that the speech would be about the loss of President Washington and his family. More than one person – news commentator or ordinary citizen – had wondered why President King hadn’t spoken at the funeral. Alex was sure that the decision had been made by General Akhdir and Speaker Dayton, but maybe now King was going to make up for not giving a eulogy for Washington. Except for a brief “thoughts and prayers” statement right after the crash, he hadn’t spoken publicly. Washington had been a highly respected and admired President. King needed to acknowledge that.

They settled in to watch the speech, and the first thing that struck Alex was that King wasn’t wearing a black suit. Black would have been a better choice than the navy blue pinstripe with a red tie. Maybe he was trying for the patriotic red, white and blue. If he was, he needed a better stylist.

Within five minutes, it was clear that the speech wasn’t going to be in praise of Washington. Oh, King mentioned him. “Our late, respected President,” he said, his face expressionless. Then he went on to explain how Washington’s plane crash was an indicator of “dangerous travel conditions.”

“What the fuck?” John muttered.

“During the past administration,” King went on, “air, rail, and road safety were not the priorities they should have been. This morning I signed an executive order to keep a central registry of all travel, both domestic and international, of our citizens. Clear, reliable records will keep us all safer.”

 “What is he _talking_ about?” Angelica asked. “That makes no sense at all.”

King continued. “We have become aware of serious threats to our safety in public places. Because of this, I have no choice but to temporarily close government parks and monuments. As soon as we can be sure these locations are safe, they will re-open, but for now, your security is paramount. We will also be increasing the police presence in airports, train and bus stations, sports venues, and other areas where crowds are likely to gather.

“I understand that some of you may find these new safety procedures inconvenient, and I wish that they were not needed. However, we must do all we can to protect our law-abiding citizens from those who would threaten them. I very much appreciate and count on your support.”

There was a lot of yelling going on in John’s living room as King closed his speech with pious platitudes. Alex waved his hands and yelled, “Shut up!”

Everybody stopped and looked at him. John was swearing under his breath, and Angelica was furious.

“You see what he’s doing? He’s starting to restrict movement.”

He watched the realization come to their faces.

“It’s what they warned you about,” Herc said.

“Exactly. It will start with small restrictions.”

“So what do we do?” Johan asked.

“Well, we can start with assembling peaceably, as it says in the First Amendment. We’ll organize a protest against the closing of parks and monuments. We can issue a press release.”

“A press release? From a bunch of college students?” Deb sounded skeptical.

“No,” Alex said, “from the Students for Progressive Government. Eliza, I believe you’re still the secretary, right?

Eliza nodded. “I am. I’d almost forgotten, though.”

“I think the SPG is going to have plenty to do now,” Alex told her. “And listen, everybody, I think we need to assume that once we get on a list somewhere – and we will, as soon as we step out with a protest sign – our communication is going to be monitored. Any time we’re talking about SPG business, even in the broadest sense, we’re going to use paper, and we’re going to code it.”

He sent a text to Ben. _Hey, I need those notes you and Lydia were going to give me. The exam is coming up._

Within minutes, Ben texted back. _Sorry, bro, I forgot, I’ll get them out tomorrow. Nat sends heart eyes to Patty._ It was followed by a heart eyes emoji, and Alex held the phone up for Patty to see.

“As long as we send stuff like that, we’re good. It’s just normal communication,” he said. “There’s no way for anyone to know that the notes are actually a code book. And the heart-eyes thing is good cover.”

Patty’s phone dinged, and revealed a long line of heart-eyes emojis from Nat. “It’s not just cover,” she told Alex, showing him the screen. “He means it.”

*          *          *          *          *

Alex was trying hard to pay attention in his Rep Law class, but he’d done all the reading for the next two weeks, and the professor wasn’t saying anything he didn’t already know. He had found out that the SPG would need a permit to protest on the public street, but that wasn’t a problem, and the paperwork had been turned in. The clerk had told him that it was routine, and he should have an email with the authorization in forty-eight hours. The protest was scheduled for Saturday. They were working on publicizing it now, and it looked like a lot of people were interested. He was so focused on thinking ahead to the protest that he didn’t even notice the class had been dismissed until he heard his name. He looked up to find Marty Middicks beside his desk.

“Hey, where’ve you been lately?” Marty asked. “I haven’t seen you in the dorm in the last couple of weeks.”

“Yeah, I’m in an apartment off campus now,” Alex told him, not eager to share details with Marty.

“There were a couple of other guys in your room last week,” Marty went on.

Alex raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Marty said, narrowing his eyes. “They weren’t friends of yours?”

“No, maybe there was a broken pipe or something in one of the other dorms. You know, last week wasn’t exactly normal. There was probably a lot of stuff we didn’t hear about.”

Marty nodded a little doubtfully. “You still seeing Maria Lewis?” he inquired, changing the subject.

“Nope.” Alex had his things together and was on his way out the door.

“Yeah, I heard she was seeing Josh Winslow now.”

“Then why are you asking me?” Alex asked irritably.

“Well, Maria plays the field, you know.”

“Whatever.” Alex walked faster, but Marty kept pace with him. As they exited the building, Alex saw Sam Seabury leaning against the stone wall in the quad, deep in conversation with the blond Shippen girl whose first name he could never remember.

“Hey, Sam,” Marty called before Alex could head in another direction.

Sam looked up and tossed his hair out of his eyes. Alex was already annoyed by Marty’s prying questions, and he didn’t feel like talking to Sam Seabury. Too bad.

“Alex, right?” Sam said, doing that stupid finger-gun thing. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Alex shrugged. “I’m pretty busy.”

Sam nodded, so that his hair flopped back over his forehead again, and he tossed it back. Alex’s fingers itched for a pair of scissors to solve the problem permanently. “I’ve read some of your articles in the _Spectator,_ ” Sam said. He looked over at the blond and added, “Alex is quite a writer.”

“Oh, wow,” the Shippen girl responded in a breathy little voice. “That’s so cool.”

“Um, listen, I have to …” Alex began, but Sam cut him off.

“I don’t know if you read my Op-Ed or not,” he said, trying to be casual. “Of course, I didn’t use my own name. My dad is, like, really old-school about that stuff.”

“Right,” Alex agreed, rolling his eyes. “Which Op-Ed are you talking about? What name did you use?”

Sam gave a self-conscious chuckle. “It was three or four weeks ago. I signed it Chet Farmer.”

Alex jerked to attention. “That was _you?_ You’re the one who wrote that pile of shit?”

Alex had spent days trying to find out who the author of the pro-King essay was. “I didn’t think the _Spectator_ published anonymous opinion pieces,” he had complained to the editor.

“We don’t usually,” she told him, “but this guy’s father is an alumnus and a donor, so ...”

Sam took a step back now, nearly bumping into the Shippen girl. “Well, that’s a hell of a thing to say.”

“Why? It was a totally fact-free essay.”

“It was an opinion piece,” Sam reminded him, “not news reporting.”

“It was a completely unsupported rant, is what it was,” Alex snapped, his fists clenched. “Your comments on Washington’s economic policies were a joke, and your remarks about his character were insulting. You have absolutely no understanding of the Washington administration, and the only reason you think King is likely to be better is that you have no understanding of him either.”

“Well, of course, because of the tragic accident, I regret being critical of President Washington.”

“Either you agree with his policies or not. It has nothing to do with whether he’s alive or dead, unless, of course, you’re a lying hypocritical son of a bitch.”

“Take that back,” Sam demanded like an angry seventh-grader.

“Fuck you,” Alex retorted, and the Shippen girl gasped, her hand dramatically over her mouth. Alex rolled his eyes at her. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“Sam, don’t let him talk to me like that,” she whined.

Sam drew himself up to his full height, several inches taller than Alex. “You want to settle this?” he asked.

Alex laughed. “Sure. When and where?”

“Eight o’clock in the library courtyard?”

By eight o’clock, it would be dusk, and there wouldn’t be too many people around.

“See you then,” Alex agreed. He turned on his heel and walked away. He had no doubt whatsoever that he could flatten Sam Seabury. His adrenaline was racing, and he headed to the cafeteria to get some coffee.

By the time he got to the third cup, he was thinking that maybe he ought to call John.

“You made an appointment to do what?” John asked, sinking into the chair on the other side of the cafeteria table.

“Um, fight?”

John cracked up. “You idiot. Just don’t show up. He probably won’t show up either.”

Alex was outraged. “I can’t do that! And he will show up, definitely, because he wants to impress that Shippen brat.”

John was still laughing, his head in his hands. “Oh, Alex, why are you so crazy?” He looked up, his hazel-green eyes bright. “And why do I love you so much?”

Alex felt his anger recede, and he gave John a smile. “Because I’m cute?” he suggested.

“That must be it. Okay, fine, I’ll go with you and see if whatshisname shows up.”

“Thanks. That’s good, you know, not that I expect to get hurt or anything, but it’s just good to know you’ll be there.”

“How much coffee have you had?” John asked suspiciously.

“Oh, not a lot, two or three cups maybe.”

“With sugar?”

“Well, sure.”

John kept his eyes fixed on Alex’s, waiting.

"Maybe five or six cups."

John's expression didn't change.

“And some donuts,” Alex finally admitted.

“How many?”

Alex shifted in his seat. “They had a special going on, thirteen for the price of a dozen.”

“You ate _thirteen_ donuts?”

“Mm.”

John sighed and got out his phone.

“Who are you calling?”

“Herc, Angelica, Gil, anybody else I can think of.”

“Why?”

John counted off on his fingers. “Possible medical emergency, possible arrest with charges for assault and battery, possible expulsion from school – you know, a few things that might come up.”

In the end, only Herc and Angelica showed up. Betsy, Patty, and Mark were working, Gil wasn’t answering his phone, and John didn’t want to upset Eliza.

“You are such an idiot,” Angelica declared when she got there.

“Seabury started it,” Alex told her.

“Oh, that’s mature. I was in the middle of studying, and I got a call from John that I have to referee some sort of pissing contest that you got yourself into.”

“It is _not_ a pissing contest. It’s a political argument.”

“Oh, good to know, because that’s the way we deal with political differences, right? We just punch each other.” She stopped and took a breath. “Come on, Alex, just forget about it and go home.”

He shook his head stubbornly. “I can’t. Really. I have to show up.”

She sighed. “Okay, I get that. Show up, say you lost your temper, whatever, shake hands, we all go home.”

Alex kept his eyes on his hands.

“Come on,” she said softly. “You’re not a violent person.”

Alex rubbed his eyes. “All right. I’ll show up and say all the right things, and he probably will too because he knows I can beat the shit out of him, and it’ll be over.”

Angelica kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Yeah.”

“I’m just going to get another cup of coffee.” He went back to the coffee machine.

“You think he’s going to keep calm?” Herc asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” Angelica said optimistically.

Herc looked at John, who was laughing again.

The library courtyard was a small triangular grassy area sheltered from view by the library itself on one side and the quad wall on another. The third side was open, but there were trees and shrubs that made the courtyard a fairly secluded meeting place. Alex and his friends entered from the side door of the library office, which they could use because Alex worked there. The courtyard was empty.

Angelica looked around and gave a sigh of relief. “See? He didn’t even come.”

Alex stood there for a moment, then shrugged. “Okay.” He was about to turn around when he heard, “Hamilton? You’re here? I never thought you’d show up.”

Sam Seabury was accompanied by Marty Middicks and his girlfriend Sylvia, as well as the Shippen girl.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he said.

Sam took a couple of steps forward. “So you want to take back those things you said to me?”

Alex stood in front of him, his jaw set. Even in the dusk, Angelica could see how tightly he had himself under control. He took a breath. “I disagree with what you wrote, but I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did.”

Sam put on a fake-surprised look. “Wow, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Alex didn’t say anything.

Sam stuck out his hand, and Alex just stared at it.

“What, you’re not going to shake my hand?”

 _Just shake his damned hand,_ Angelica begged silently, biting her lip.

“How about if we’re just done now and we go home?” Alex suggested wearily.

“You’re not going to shake my hand? Fuck you, you little spic!” Seabury hooked his foot around Alex’s ankle, and Alex went down.

 _“Fuck!”_ John yelled, racing across the courtyard, but by the time he got there, Alex had already broken Sam’s nose, and it took both John and Herc to pull him off. Marty and Sylvia had fled, dragging the wailing Shippen girl with them. Sam was trying to sit up, blood streaming down his face and both his eyes rapidly swelling. He was mumbling something, but Angelica couldn’t understand him. John and Herc were holding Alex down, but he continued to yell and struggle and threaten to take on Seabury and all of his friends.

“Shut up!” Herc snapped, trying to get his hand over Alex’s mouth.

Angelica looked back and forth, and then took off at a run.

“Goddammit, Alex, hold still!” John ordered, finally sitting on Alex’s legs, since that seemed to be the only thing that would keep him from getting up.

Herc yanked Alex’s arms above his head and sat on them, although that left Alex’s mouth unrestrained, and he was still yelling.

Angelica reappeared with Marty Middicks and Sylvia Johnson in tow and gestured at Sam.

“Take him to the infirmary,” she directed. “Tell them he fell or walked into a door or something, because I swear to you, if you bring Alex’s name into it, number one, I’ll make sure the dean knows your disgusting friend is a racist, and number two, I’ll tell Dr. Gates how Sylvia got an A on her last exam.”

Sylvia’s mouth dropped open, and she hastily whispered something to Marty. Together, they pulled Sam to his feet and he staggered off between them, stumbling a little.

“As for you,” Angelica continued, whirling around to speak to Alex, “can I tell John and Herc to let you up?”

Alex had finally shut up. “Yeah.”

“You promise you’ll stay right here?”

Alex nodded, although it was difficult with Herc sitting on his arms. “They’re hurting me,” he said in a subdued voice.

“No shit,” Angelica responded with absolutely zero sympathy. She nodded to John and Herc. “Go ahead.”

Cautiously, they got up and moved away from Alex, who pulled himself to a sitting position, rubbing his shoulders.

“You okay?” Angelica asked.

Alex looked at his hands. “I could probably use some ice.”

John reached down and helped him to his feet, then put his arms around him. After a minute or two, Alex pulled away and looked at his friends. “He shouldn’t have called me that,” he said.

“No, he shouldn’t have,” Angelica agreed.

“You guys …”

Herc cut him off. “Alex, nobody’s mad at you.”

“Really?”

“Really. We get it. John and I were about to join in, but Seabury was already half dead, so we didn’t bother.”

Alex looked at Angelica, who shook her head. “What he said was inexcusable.”

He blinked a couple of times and managed a shaky smile. He held out his arms, and the four of them stood together in an uneven circle, holding onto one another. “I love you guys,” he murmured. “Thank you for being here for me.”

“We’ll always have each other’s backs,” Angelica said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crispus (Chris in this story) Attucks was killed in the Boston Massacre, 1770.  
> King has begun the changes that President Washington warned about. Now Alex, Ben, Crazy Tony, and the others must organize an opposition. What's next?  
> Thanks so much for the kudos and comments. I really do love hearing from you. Tell me what you think.


	23. It's a Movement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and his friends stage their first protest march. President King's government cracks down. Gil gets a girlfriend.

They spent all their free time in the next few days getting ready for the protest march on Saturday. The permit had come through as promised, and they were given a specific location where they could demonstrate, but it was a full city block, so Alex and Angelica agreed that was sufficient. John and Herc designed posters and sketched out the lettering, and anyone who was available colored them in. Angelica, Eliza, Deb, and Johan gave out flyers to everyone they saw. Alex had written the copy, headlined with _Keep Our National Parks Open_ and _Travel Registry Won’t Make Us Safer._ Herc scrounged some old wooden lath from a construction site in his neighborhood and Friday evening, he and John nailed the posters to the lath so they could carry them. They lined them up along the wall and stood back to admire them.

“They look good, don’t they?” John asked.

“They do,” Herc agreed. “We have a nice assortment, lots of colors. They’ll get attention, and that’s what we want. Make people aware.”

“We’re all set then,” Alex said. He’d been on coloring duty, since John didn’t really trust him with a hammer. “Everybody meets here at eight tomorrow morning.”

“I’m calling for pizza,” John announced, getting up to put the hammer and extra nails away. “You staying, Herc?”

“You getting pepperoni?”

“Sure.”

“Then yeah, definitely.”

They ate the pizza and watched some _Law and Order_ reruns, and then Alex reviewed the permit paperwork he’d gotten. “We’ve got a block on Amsterdam Avenue to protest in, between 115 th and 116th streets from nine until noon. We’re not allowed to impede pedestrians or vehicles. Police officers will be assigned to help maintain order.”

“I don’t think a lot of people are going to be upset by our wanting to keep national parks and monuments open,” John commented with a shrug, “and most of them are barely aware of the new travel registry being kept, so I can’t imagine the police are going to have anything to do.”

Alex nodded. “True. All we’re doing is trying to bring attention to the issues. Tony’s doing the same thing in Philly, and Frank in Charleston.”

“It’s a start,” Herc said. “We’re probably going to be doing a lot more marching in the streets, so this can be a sort of practice run.”

At eight o’clock the next morning, everybody was there to get final instructions and pick up their signs. Angelica reminded them all that it was to be a peaceful protest and that they were not to engage with any hecklers who might show up, giving Alex a particularly stern look as she spoke.

Alex just rolled his eyes. “Are we allowed to answer questions, Madame President?”

“Of course,” Angelica told him. “Just be polite.”

“I’ll stay with him,” John said. “I’ll make sure he behaves.”

“What? I need a babysitter?” Alex inquired.

John smiled and handed him a sign.

The first indication that things might not go as smoothly as expected came when they left the apartment building as a group and started walking toward the designated protest site approximately two blocks away. A police car with flashing lights immediately pulled to the curb, and two officers got out.

“Produce your permit, please,” one of them ordered. He had rows of sparkly gold braid on his sleeves and his name tag read _McMartin._

Alex handed over the permit, and McMartin scrutinized it carefully.

“This permit is not for this location,” he announced.

Angelica stepped forward. “Excuse me,” she said. “Our designated protest location is Amsterdam Avenue between 115th and 116th, right?”

“That’s correct.”

Angelica and Alex exchanged confused looks. “We’re on 116th Street right now,” Angelica continued.

“That’s also correct.”

“I don’t understand.”

McMartin gave an exaggerated sigh. “You have no permit to protest on 116th Street.”

“But we’re just walking from here to Amsterdam Avenue, which is at the corner.” This wasn’t making any sense.

“Oh, you’re just walking, are you?’

Angelica nodded, remaining outwardly calm and polite. “To get to the designated protest site.”

“Then what are all these signs for?”

John, Herc, Gil, and Patty had moved up to the front of the group to stand by Angelica and Alex. Eliza was pressed close to her sister’s side.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” Angelica admitted. “We’re on our way to the site we were told to use. We’re walking, because it’s only a block away. We’re carrying signs because we need them for our demonstration. I don’t see what the problem is.”

“Well, then, I’ll explain it to you,” McMartin said, his annoyance clear. “I see a group of people carrying signs critical of our government. This group of people is walking down a public street where they have _no permit_ to protest. Now that looks a lot like an unpermitted demonstration to me.”

“But how can we get to the permitted site without walking from here to there?”

“Nobody’s telling you not to walk down the street. That would be ridiculous.”

“Fucking right it is,” John muttered, but low enough so only Alex could hear him.

“All I’m saying is that you can’t protest here,” McMartin said.

“But we’re … “Angelica began, but Gil interrupted her.

“You are talking about the signs, aren’t you?” he asked McMartin.

McMartin gave him a sardonic smile. “When a group of people is carrying sings like these, it’s a protest. I’m glad somebody figured it out. What’s your name?”

Gil considered for a moment giving his full name and title, but then thought better of it. “Gilbert Motier.”

“Where are you from?”

Gil’s eyebrow went up. “Why do you ask?”

“You don’t sound like you’re from around here.”

Gil didn’t respond at all. Alex could feel the tension rising. McMartin took a step forward. “Let me see your papers,” he said to Gil.

There was some stirring and murmuring in the group now. Herc and Johan moved up closer to Gil.

“What papers are you requesting?” Gil asked.

“I need your driver’s license or some other form of ID, and something that shows you have a valid reason to be in this country.”

Gil actually looked amused. He pulled out his wallet and removed his driver’s license and his university ID. As McMartin began to look at the license, Gil took out his phone and snapped a close-up picture of him, making sure that his badge number was clearly readable.

“What the hell are you doing? “McMartin demanded, trying and failing to grab Gil’s arm.

“Just trading information,” Gil said calmly. “You have my ID, and I have yours. Your badge number is a matter of public record, is it not? It is information available to the public?”

McMartin threw a look over his shoulder at the other officer, who shrugged. McMartin studied Gil’s information closely, making a show of looking at him and matching his face to the photos. Finally, with evident regret, he handed them back.

“May we go now?” Angelica asked, still controlling her voice carefully.

“Not with those signs,” McMartin responded.

“Fu…” Alex started, but Patty shoved him in the ribs, hard, and it turned into a grunt of pain.

It was Eliza who spoke up. “Officer,” she said politely, “suppose we were to carry the signs upside down, with the words facing away from the street, until we got to the end of the block and into our designated protest area? If no one could see what they said, it couldn’t be a protest, could it?”

McMartin again looked at his colleague, but Eliza’s question seemed to baffle both of them. They couldn’t contend with any credibility that carrying upside-down signs with the slogans invisible to the public could be construed as a protest. At the same time, their orders had been to find a legal loophole to stop the protest. McMartin thought he had it figured out, but now it seemed like this girl had outwitted him. He narrowed his eyes and stared at her. He wanted to commit that pretty face to memory just in case he saw her again.

“All right,” he said finally, obviously angry, but unable to come up with a way to delay them any further. “Let me see you turn those signs so nobody can see them.”

They all obeyed silently, but there were a few smiles in Eliza’s direction. McMartin waved them on, and they marched as quickly as possible to the end of the block and turned onto Amsterdam Avenue. There was a collective sigh of relief, and everybody started talking.

Alex grabbed Eliza and kissed her enthusiastically. “You are a genius!” he told her.

“My sister is my hero,” Angelica announced, getting her arm around Eliza and unobtrusively pulling her away from Alex.

“What are you going to do with that guy’s badge number?” Johan asked Gil.

“Pass it on to my friends at the embassy,” Gil grinned. “They know people.”

“That guy was a fucking asshole,” John said, and there were nods and murmurs of agreement.

“Hey, Patty,” Alex yelled in her direction, “I’m billing you for my broken ribs.”

That made everyone laugh, and they lined up as they had planned, signs now facing the street. They had hardly begun to walk slowly back and forth on the sidewalk of the single block that their permit allowed when a police car pulled up to the curb, its lights flashing.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Alex began, but Herc grabbed him before he could storm over to the police car.

“Let Angelica handle it,” Herc said.

Alex nodded briefly, and signaled to everyone to keep walking while Angelica spoke to the police officer. It didn’t look like McMartin, but Alex couldn’t see his face clearly. After a minute, Angelica stepped away from the car and turned to face them.

“We need to stay closer to the buildings,” she announced. “It seems that were impeding pedestrian traffic.”

“Were there complaints?” Alex asked pointedly.

“I don’t know.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense if we stayed closer to the curb?” Deb suggested. “That way we won’t make it difficult for people going in and out of the stores.”

Angelica discussed this recommendation with the police officer who gave grudging consent, and the car finally drove away.

“Gee, you think we’re being deliberately targeted for harassment?” John asked drily.

“Yeah, it looks like that might be the case,” Angelica replied. “I don’t know if it’s us specifically, or if they’re just trying to crack down on protesting in general, but they’re making it as hard as they can.”

“I’ll call Crazy Tony later,” Alex said. “We’ll see what happened in Philly.”

Nearly the first hour of their allotted time had been eaten up by interruptions, but now they were able to continue as planned. Alex was encouraged by drivers honking their horns in agreement as they drove by and by pedestrians who spoke their approval and asked questions. Things went well until Marty Middicks and Sylvia Johnson came by, hand-in-hand. Angelica gave Alex a warning glance, and he did his best not to make eye contact. He looked up when he heard John snicker, though, and saw the couple in conversation with Eliza. He took a step in their direction, only to be dragged back by Herc.

“Seriously, you looking for trouble?” Herc asked.

“No, of course not, but why are they bothering Eliza?”

“Sylvia’s her roommate. I think they’re allowed to talk.”

Herc and John kept Alex firmly between them as they continued walking. “Don’t forget,” John said, “we will sit on you if necessary.”

Alex snorted derisively, but he didn’t try to get away, and after a few minutes Marty and Sylvia left. Alex shook off his handlers and went to talk to Eliza.

“You know, Angelica told me everything about you and Sam Seabury,” she said before he got a word out.

“Okay.”

“Not that he didn’t have it coming, but …”

“He started it,” Alex broke in.

Eliza’s eyebrow went up. “Are you twelve?” she asked.

“If Angelica told you everything, then you know why I hit him.”

“Yeah, I do. I mean, I wish it hadn’t happened, but I get it.”

Alex waited for her to bring up Marty and Sylvia, but she didn’t, so he asked about them.

“Oh, Sylvia just wanted to tell me that she had moved in with Marty,” she said. “It was pretty obvious, actually. She hasn’t slept in the dorm in weeks. I don’t mind having the room to myself.”

It seemed like there was something else Eliza wanted to say, but she kept walking, and Alex stayed with her. After a while, she looked up and gave him a crooked smile. “Sylvia said she moved out because she thought I was too much under your influence,” she told him. “Pretty silly, really, isn’t it?”

Alex didn’t much like Sylvia, but the idea that Eliza might lose friends because of him made him feel uncomfortable. “Eliza, I’m sorry,” he said.

Eliza shook her head and waved him off. “It’s fine. I told her that I got all my political and social ideas from Angelica, not you, so now they’re not speaking to her either.”

Alex laughed, but it still bothered him. “I don’t want anybody to be judged for hanging around with me. It makes me feel toxic.”

Eliza looked at him steadily, but he couldn’t read her face. “Isn’t that up to your friends to decide? We know who you are, and we decide who we’re going to be friends with.”

“Okay, then.” He put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a one-sided hug. “Thanks for being on my side.”

Eliza nudged him away and turned to answer a question from a passer-by. He stood looking at her for a minute, and then Johan came up behind him and gave him a shove. “If we don’t keep moving, we can be arrested for loitering,” he announced.

“Sorry.” Alex started walking again. “Wait, really?”

Johan nodded. “Yeah, it’s in the fine print on the permit. Protestors have to keep moving.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t make the laws, and I don’t feel like dealing with any more cops.”

“Good point.”

The rest of the protest went smoothly with only a couple more interruptions: a news team took some pictures and asked for a statement, which Alex gave, keeping his voice calm and sticking to the facts. Even Angelica congratulated him after the reporters left. The second interruption was another police car that stopped at eleven thirty to remind them that their end time was noon. Angelica actually called the end at five minutes before noon, just to be sure that they had disbursed. John offered to call for pizza for everybody back at his apartment, but Johan had a paper to work on and Patty and Mark had to work. Gil said that he and Deb were going to get lunch at the new Syrian place he’d heard about, giving John and Alex a meaningful look so they didn’t ask him what Syrian place he meant, and in the end, it was only Angelica, Eliza, and Herc who came back for pizza.

They took all the signs with them, holding them carefully so that they couldn’t be accused of continuing the protest, and stacked them against the wall in John’s studio.

“We’ll probably use them again,” Angelica said.

Alex nodded. “There will be more things to protest with President King, I’m sure.”

“Can we get a white pizza with spinach?” Eliza asked as she put on the kettle for tea.

John put his arm around her, “Honey, if you want a grilled cheese sandwich with spinach, you can have one, but don’t call it pizza.”

“Fine,” Eliza said, making a face at him, “and don’t call me honey.”

Angelica was sprawled on the couch and didn’t even look up. “No fighting,” she ordered.

John diplomatically ordered one plain, one pepperoni, and a spinach and cheese panini for Eliza.

“John is the best person ever,” Eliza declared, taking a bite of her panini. “There’s nobody else who would order something special for me.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Angelica told her. “And it’s not true anyway. Dad would.”

“Well, okay, maybe Dad,” Eliza conceded, “but nobody else, and Dad’s not here, so John wins the Best Person in New York City Award that I just made up.”

John dropped a kiss on the top of her head as he sat down on the floor with his plate of pizza. “Thank you, Eliza. I’ll make room for it on my trophy shelf.”

“So, not to interrupt the John Laurens Fan Club or anything,” Alex said, “but what kind of reaction did we get to the protest today? What kinds of things were people asking?”

“They asked mostly about the national parks closing,” Angelica responded. “I think only one person mentioned the travel registry, and they weren’t really upset about it.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Herc agreed. He looked at Alex a little hesitantly. “People aren’t as worried as they should be.”

“You’re right,” Alex said. “It’s almost like before the election, when we couldn’t get people interested in voting. Now King is starting to take away our rights, and they’re still not all that concerned. Some lady told me today she didn’t know why we were protesting because it’s all for our safety.”

“People are stupid,” John said, and when they all looked at him, he continued, “Maybe I shouldn’t say _stupid_ ; maybe it’s more like complacent. They don’t think anything bad is going to happen. They actually believe all the shit King says. Not one person today mentioned the plane crash.”

When they talked with Tony and Frank, they found similar reactions in Philadelphia and Charleston. First, there had been a lot of police harassment; second, there had been relatively little interest in the protests from ordinary citizens.

“It’s like they’re disconnected,” Angelica said. “What’s it going to take to get their attention?”

They would find out within the next few weeks. King announced that because of national security, the federal government was apportioning more money for military-style training for local police forces. They would also be supplied with more and more powerful weapons. In addition, Congress passed, and King signed, a new law requiring a national ID card that would state place of birth as well as the usual information.

“Fuck,” John said, “after all the work I put into those driver’s licenses, now they won’t be any good for ID.” He got busy immediately working on new ID’s, and gave Betsy money to buy him another printer. “She could logically want one for the business. I don’t think I should buy any more myself. Keep a low profile, you know.”

“I was right,” Gil said, hearing this. “You have a genius for criminal activity.”

John grinned at him. “It’ll be useful.”

“How many printers do you have now?” Deb asked. She was on the couch next to Gil, who had his arm around her.

“Three,” John told her, “but I’d like to get at least one more. More ink, too. I mean, I’ve got a shitload of ink now, but there’s going to come a time when they track who’s buying it, mark my words.”

“You really think so?”

“Absolutely. We’re only seeing the beginning.”

Alex looked at John with a faint smile. “For somebody who says he doesn’t know much about history, my boyfriend seems to have studied the rise of every totalitarian state in the past few centuries.”

John shrugged. “Prepare for the worst, hope for the best.”

The first week in April, President King scheduled another speech to the nation, and again, every network covered it. Of course they all gathered to watch it at John and Alex’s apartment.

They were tired of pizza, so John had bought cold cuts and cheese for sandwiches. Deb and Angelica were putting them on plates and slicing rolls, while Eliza and Patty transferred the cupcakes Betsy had sent to a tray.  Patty had come right from work and was still wearing her bright yellow tee shirt.

“I wish Betsy would let us pay her for all the stuff she sends,” Eliza said.

“She won’t,” Patty smiled, “just like John won’t take any money for the hundreds of pizzas he’s paid for by now.”

Eliza looked over her shoulder at John and Gil who were deep in conversation over by the window. “I think that’s what Gil’s arguing with him about now.”

“Gil doesn’t argue,” Deb said. “He just pronounces.”

Angelica laughed. “Are you saying he’s a little dictatorial?”

Deb considered for a minute. “No, not really. I mean, he’s not controlling at all. He’d never think of telling me what to wear or who I could text or anything like that. It’s just, when he’s made his mind up about something, that’s it. In all fairness, though, he really thinks about things before he makes up his mind.” She glanced over to see if Gil was paying attention, but he was still talking to John. She lowered her voice anyway. “His family in France isn’t at all happy about him staying here with things going the way they are, but there’s no way in hell he’s going back to France. When the Washingtons were killed, that was it for him.”

“Well,” Eliza said, “it’s good you understand that.” She blushed a little, realizing she had been thinking aloud. “I mean, you know, if you’re together …”

Deb smiled. “We are, at least for now. I like Gil a lot – he’s cute and charming, and I love his accent. He’s smart and he has a ton of money and he likes to go to nice places, but …”

“Oh, come on,” Angelica coaxed, “what’s not to like?”

“Well, for one thing, he wants six kids.”

“Six?” Patty screeched.

“Sh!” Deb told her, poking her. “He might consider settling for five, but five is the lower limit for sure. That’s one of those things he’s made up his mind about.”

Angelica gave a snort of laughter. “So you’re not going to be _maman_ to half a dozen little Lafayettes?”

“Not a chance,” Deb said, and snuck another glance over at John and Gil, who had now been joined by Alex and Herc. “This isn’t going to be a long-term relationship, but it’s a lot of fun for now, and besides …”

“Besides what?” Eliza asked.

“Let’s just say Gil knows how to make a girl feel good. I mean, _really_ good.”

Angelica laughed again, Eliza smiled, and Patty stared blankly for a full thirty seconds before she got it. Then she turned bright red.

It was good that they’d had a chance to laugh before President King’s speech. He had requested air time to announce to the country that Speaker Jonathan Dayton had been selling his vote to any number of agencies, foreign and domestic, for years. King’s voice dripped with sorrow as he told the country that he had accepted Dayton’s resignation as Speaker of the House.

About the time he got to that part, Alex’s phone blew up with calls from Ben, Crazy Tony, Frank, and everybody else who’d been in the Capital with him. They all knew that Dayton was an honest and honorable man. They all knew it was a lie.

With Ben and Nat on Facetime on Alex’s phone and Tony on John’s, they had the opportunity to yell at King and, to some extent, at one another.

King explained that Dayton would be under house arrest awaiting a trial for corruption, but Ben had the Speaker’s private cell number, and every call went straight to voicemail. Calls to Jim Bridges, Dayton’s aide, were answered, but Jim responded very briefly and formally. “I’m sorry,” he said to Ben, as if he’d never spoken to him before. “I have no further information.” When Alex called Claire Austin on Angelica’s phone, it was even worse.

“Excuse me,” she said. “Who did you say you were?”

“Alex Hamilton! I was in the internship program in January.”

“I’m sure you were, but we get so many interns, it’s hard to keep them all straight. Maybe you could email me.”

“Right,” Alex agreed, suddenly realizing that Claire might be protecting herself. “I’ll do that.”

He went back to Ben. “They’re scared,” he said.

Ben nodded. “Jim’s got a wife and kids. I hope he can get out of the Capital.”

The next morning, former Vice-President Akhdir appeared on every morning news show to defend Speaker Dayton’s innocence and integrity. He spoke at length about his years of working with Dayton and his respect for him. He continued speaking out day after day.

Within two weeks Congress had passed and King had signed a modern version of the old Sedition Act. The first person charged under the new Sedition Act was General Zain Akhdir. Unlike Speaker Dayton, he didn’t disappear into “house arrest.” First, he continued speaking against King, if not in person, then by phone or via social media. Second, he stayed in touch with Alex, Nat, TJ, Frank, and Abby. They knew where he was, but didn’t divulge the information to anyone except the other five interns, the ones who had worked with Speaker Dayton. “The fewer who know, the safer he is,” Alex said, and nobody pushed him. Two weeks after he was charged, a warrant out for his arrest, he went publicly silent. Ten people knew where General Akhdir was, and that was enough.

Ben and Nat drove in from New Haven, and Alex got everybody together in Betsy‘s conference room.

“From here on in,” he said, “we’re all in danger of being charged with sedition. It’s now a crime to criticize the government. Anybody who wants out of this, it’s okay. We understand.” He looked around the room, but nobody made any sign of wanting to leave. “Okay, then,” he went on, “our leader, the only person we take orders from, is General Zain Akhdir. We do not recognize King’s Presidency. We know that he somehow caused Blodman’s brain damage, and that he engineered the plane crash that killed the entire Washington family. Our goal is to bring down the illegal, unconstitutional King government and to hold free elections for a new President.”

He and Ben began passing out papers. “This is your code list for now,” Ben said. “Memorize it and burn it. Paper can’t be hacked or overheard, so communicate on paper rather than digitally, then burn the paper. We’re going to be more organized than we have been, coordinating our plans so that we’re all working toward the same goal. We’ve done a few protests, but we’re going to do more, and they’re going to get bigger. King is arming the police with the goal of silencing protest. I can’t promise there won’t be violence. I can’t promise you’ll be safe. Do you all understand that?”

They did. They knew that this is what President Washington had foreseen. They understood that no matter the outcome, they would be leading an uprising against the current government. No one hesitated.

“You know I’m in,” Nat said.

“Me, too,” Patty added, holding Nat’s arm.

“Why go back to France if I can stay here and shoot guns?” Gil asked.

“I can’t promise you’ll shoot any guns,” Alex told him, “But I’m glad you’re prepared.”

Angelica put her arm around Eliza and hugged her. “So,” she said, “this is the moment.”

Alex shook his head. “It’s not a moment. It’s a movement.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly, there's a lot going on, and things are going to get more tense. Why do you suppose the new ID's require place of birth on them? How many 3-digit code numbers could you memorize if it were a matter of life and death?  
> Thank you as always for comments and kudos. I love hearing from you, especially when you tell me what you like about the story. I always try to write more of what my readers like, so let me know!


	24. New Ideas in the Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before the semester ends, President King introduces some more new laws. Alex meets with a new ally. Eliza and Angelica go to Albany for the summer. Herc has a job and Gil has an internship. Alex and John find other ways to pass the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me forever to post. I have been battling an annoying period of writer's block where it seemed that random keyboard-bashing was producing better quality prose than I was. It seems to have passed, for now, anyway, but if you want to reassure me that I'm writing coherent sentences, that would be much appreciated.

With Jonathan Dayton under house arrest, Congress quickly voted in Fred North, an old crony of King’s, as Speaker. Under North’s direction, Congress simply rubber-stamped everything King sent them. Alex went on caffeine-fueled rants about “separation of powers” that John had to talk him down from time after time, but nothing seemed to be able to stop the steam-roller of King’s authority.

At the beginning of May, there was a nation-wide recruitment project for the new national police force. King’s speech praised the new program as “greater than any seen in our history,” and it wasn’t long before people were calling the elaborate-uniformed officers the “Greaters.” They seemed to be chosen not for their intelligence or their interest in serving their country but for their ability to intimidate and bully the citizens. Stop-and-frisks became a daily occurrence. Students were repeatedly late to class because they were delayed and harassed by the Greaters.  Professors tolerated it because they realized the situation, but the university, under pressure, began to send out memos asking that records of tardiness be kept.

“This is ridiculous!” Dr. Wilson declared, slamming his hand on the desk. “Any student who dares to step off campus gets stopped, and they’re telling me I should deduct points for lateness like this is junior high?”

The next day Dr. Wilson got an email telling him that a note had been put in his personnel file because of his unprofessional behavior. That’s when they knew for sure that there were students who were reporting everything that was said in class. Alex suspected that Marty Middicks was one of them, and he was positive about Sam Seabury.

“Sylvia too,” Eliza said.

“Probably Sadie Shippen,” Herc added, “if she can manage to put together enough sentences to tell somebody something.” Herc had taken a profound dislike to Sadie Shippen who, as a design major, was in several of his classes. Every time her name came up, he rolled his eyes or gave a snort of disgust, but only John seemed to understand why.

When Angelica asked why she irritated him so much, he said, “She’s got the IQ of salt, and the artistic talent of an oyster. She’s only in college because of her daddy’s money, and she’s using a place that could have gone to somebody who would learn something.” Herc was also feeling the pressure of King’s new “wholesome families” standards. A huge number of TV interviews were being given by King’s “Loving Moms and Dads” crusaders. They were all attractive and well-groomed and always did interviews in pairs, as married couples, holding hands and smiling. They talked about “suitable pursuits and occupations” for men and women, and somehow textile design had been put in the girls’ column. While the university hadn’t yet banned male students from the program, they were offering incentives to those who were willing to change their major.

“We want our children to grow up to be happy and productive,” said Mrs. Married Couple on the _Today Show_. “Research has shown us that men and women have different abilities and talents.”

“No, they don’t!” John yelled at the TV. “It’s cultural conditioning. Fucking moron.” It was Alex’s turn to talk John down.

Because King’s restrictions were artfully disguised in the trappings of national security and traditional family values, there was less resistance to them than might have been expected. Most people didn’t object to an increased police presence or to kind-seeming parents who spoke warmly about family life. Those who did see it for the framework of oppression that it was becoming had a hard time convincing others. Sam Seabury held forth in the quad on more than one occasion in support of King. “I, for one, feel much safer with more police on the streets. I know crime is down here in the city.”

It was true that the government statistics showed a decrease in crime; whether the statistics were accurate was another question altogether.

At the end of May, just as exams were finishing, King scheduled another evening speech. Once again, everyone gathered at John and Alex’s apartment. John and Herc had completed all their work for the semester, since they were evaluated by portfolio rather than exams. Gil, Deb, and Angelica each had one more exam, and Alex, Eliza, and Johan had two. Patty wouldn’t have exams until June, and then she’d graduate from high school. Nat was coming in for her graduation and bringing Ben with him. Angelica and Eliza were heading up to Albany at the end of the week, but they were coming back for Patty’s graduation party. They didn’t explain to their parents that there would also be a strategy meeting while everyone was together.

“I don’t see any point in upsetting them,” Eliza said to Alex, “especially with Mom pregnant. If the time comes that we have to tell them, we will, but right now we’re not doing anything that they need to know about.”

Alex nodded. “You’re right. Whatever happens, people who know we’re actively planning to overthrow the government will be at risk. There’s no reason to do that to your parents or Peggy.”

As usual, John had made two pans of lasagna, Eliza had baked brownies, and Betsy had sent cupcakes with Patty. King’s speech was scheduled for eight o’clock, so they ate early and cleaned up.

“President King is going to be responsible for my gaining ten pounds if we have to keep stuffing ourselves with carbs to be able to endure listening to him,” Angelica said, taking a second brownie.

“God only knows what this speech is going to be about. Every time he makes one of these addresses to the nation, I get anxiety wondering which one of our liberties he’s going to attack,” Alex muttered. He fiddled with the remote, adjusting and readjusting the sound. John finally reached over and took it away from him.

“Have another cupcake, babe,” John suggested, and Alex selected a devil’s food one with sprinkles on the icing.

They no longer even pretended that they didn’t expect Gil to bring wine. He was still a few months short of his twenty-first birthday, but his friends at the Embassy shared his opinion that putting wine, which everyone drank with dinner, in the same category as whiskey and vodka was just silly. He always had a glass with dinner, but nobody had ever seen Gil drunk. Alex was wary of drinking at all after his experience with vodka, but tonight he held out his glass for Gil to fill before President King appeared on the TV screen.

“I need all the help I can get,” he said with a twisted smile.

 _“Bon courage,”_ Gil told him.

King started out talking about division in the country and how he wanted to heal it.

“Pretty sure that’s what every politician says,” Herc yawned.

“Our citizens include those who have achieved great success through their effort and hard work,” King continued, “as well as those hopeful and diligent citizens who aspire to prosperity and seek it by striving diligently. There is no doubt that eventually they will attain their goals. Sadly, though, there are others whose lack of motivation and application guarantees that they will never thrive as have the first two groups.  For decades, we have tried to help these deplorable people through a variety of benefits programs, none of which have been successful. It is time to make some changes that will make our citizens responsible for their own success.”

Everybody was paying attention now.

“What’s he going to cut?” Eliza asked. “Food stamps? School lunches?”

Herc, whose brothers and sisters still got free lunch at school, muttered, “Fuck him.”

What King actually had to say was much worse than they feared: the new national ID cards would now designate an economic “level.” Inclusion in each level was based on the previous five years of tax returns. The Level One citizens, those who were already wealthy, would be taxed at a lower rate to reward them for what King called “their extraordinary efforts.”

The yelling had started before King finished his sentence.

“Shut up!” Angelica shouted over the uproar. “We have to hear him.”

King laid out his “economic rewards” plan in detail. Level One people were entitled not only to tax breaks, but also to special privileges like being moved to the front of the line in airport security check-ins and being more likely to be hired for government jobs.

Those in Level Two, who could still hope to move up to Level One, were encouraged to work hard, but didn’t get any help or special favors.

Finally, those in Level Three, those “deplorable” citizens whose misfortune was, at least in King’s opinion, the result of their own laziness, would lose benefits like food stamps, subsidized child care, and Pell grants. Their taxes would be raised so that they could begin to pay their “fair share, after many years," said King, “of expecting the rest of us to take care of them.”

By the time the President finished his remarks, the shouting had stopped and everyone was sitting in stunned silence. Patty and Eliza were crying. Alex was pacing back and forth, looking like he was ready to commit murder. John’s face was so pale that every freckle stood out.

“What does he think …?” Angelica began, and then choked on her words.

“Is this real?” Patty asked through her tears. “Can he really do this?”

“He can if Congress goes along, and they will,” Alex said bitterly. “We can challenge it – somebody can challenge it in the Supreme Court, but I don’t know …” He looked at Angelica. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know. If things were normal, I’d say we’d win, five-four, but now … I think Blair might vote with King.”

“Really? I was thinking Cushing.”

Herc spoke for the first time, his voice grim. “How many justices do you think are going to stand up to King after what happened to Blodman and Dayton and the whole Washington family? He’s a murderer, and we all know it. The entire government is in his power.”

Angelica looked at Herc and then back to Alex. “He’s right,” she said. “If King could kill those little girls, nobody’s safe. Justices have families like everybody else. You think they haven’t thought about that?”

Alex nodded. “This is what President Washington knew. This is why he put it in our hands, because he knew the whole government would bow to King.” He bit his lip and looked from face to face around the room. “Okay. You guys all still in?”

“Fuck, yeah,” John said, and the rest echoed him.

*          *          *          *          *

A week later, the school year was over. Angelica and Eliza went home to Albany with a promise to return for Patty’s graduation in a few weeks. Gil was doing a summer internship in the Emergency and Trauma Department of Saint Luke’s Hospital not far from the university campus. He would mostly be doing paperwork, but he would have the opportunity to observe various procedures as well, and he was looking forward to it. Herc was working part-time with a kids’ art program sponsored by the public library. At least, that was the plan. Now the library was contending with new regulations that prohibited library funds from paying for the program for low-income children. Nor were they allowed to accept private donations. Herc was enraged about it. “It’s twenty fucking dollars a kid!” he ranted to John and Alex. “NO library funds or charity funds can be used. Level Three children had to come up with their own money, which they can’t, of course. Makes me sick.”

John was thoughtful. “Do you know any of the kids who want to be in the program but can’t because of money?”

“Sure, I know them all. It’s in my neighborhood. They’re all friends with my brothers and sisters.”

“Do you think maybe you could get them all together in one place on Saturday afternoon? Say around two o’clock?”

“Yeah. What do you have in mind?”

John smiled. “Honest work. If I hire them and pay them, it’s their money, right?”

Herc narrowed his eyes. “What kind of work?”

“My car’s really dirty. Can we meet someplace where I can fill some buckets with water?”

“Yeah, we can. There’s a gas station on the corner a block down from my building. I know the guy that owns it.”

“Okay then. How many kids will I be hiring?”

Herc thought for a minute. “Ten or fifteen, maybe?”

John nodded. “We have to do what we can for art education.”

That took care of one problem for one activity in one place, but across the nation, programs were being cancelled. It wasn’t just enrichment programs like the one Herc was working for, but real life-and-death matters, summer lunch provisions, free immunizations, subsidized prenatal care. The worst of it was that private donors were not allowed to help. Go Fund Me’s website mysteriously disappeared, as did all similar sites. John was able to pay cash to the kids Herc knew for washing his car, but even that ran a risk of being reported.

“People must learn to pull themselves up by their own bootstraps,” President King announced.

“They’ve got no fucking boots, you asshole!” John yelled at the TV.

It didn’t take long before the official designations of Level One, Level Two, and Level Three were discarded. People began referring to Haves, Hopes, and Deplorables, and it eventually became Haves, Hopes, and Deplos. It started as a joke, but no one really thought it was funny. Alex had been planning to take a couple of summer classes, but now he decided against it. The future was so unpredictable that it seemed impossible to plan for it. He would use his free time during the summer to investigate possible strategies that could be used against King’s government.  One of the first things he did was look up Rob Townsend, his old RA from the dorm. Rob had asked to meet with him the week the Washingtons were killed, but Alex had been caught up in so many other things that he hadn’t gotten back to him. He was pretty sure he knew where Rob stood on King and his government, but they’d never talked about it, and Alex knew he had to be cautious. Rob agreed to meet him for coffee at Betsy’s. Alex got there early and picked a table in the back. Rob looked around when he came in the door, gave Alex a brief nod, and ordered his coffee. When he got it, he walked to the table and sat down. He took a sip of coffee and broke a corner off his scone.

“The scones are good here,” Alex told him.

Rob chewed thoughtfully. “Yeah, they are. Is this where you and your friends hang out?”

Alex shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“You’re living off campus now, right?” Rob asked.

“Yeah.”

“With your boyfriend?”

“Yeah.”

Rob broke off another piece of scone. “The guys who used your dorm room, they get back to Yale okay?”

Alex sat up and started paying attention. “How’d you know they were from Yale?”

“Overheard them say something about driving back to New Haven.”

“Damn. I’ll remind them to keep their voices down,” Alex said.

Rob shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t say anything. Marty Middicks would have loved to know, though.”

“Yeah, I … he asked me about them.”

“What’d you say?”

“Played dumb.”

“Good. I think we’re all going to have to do a lot of that for a while.”

Alex drank some coffee. “Some of us might try to do something besides just play dumb.”

Rob looked at him, watching his eyes. “Do you have … how should I put this? Someone in charge?”

“Locally? Sure.”

“How would I contact that person?”

“You’d probably have coffee with him at Betsy’s.”

For the first time, Rob looked like he might smile. “You?”

“’Fraid so.”

Rob took another sip of coffee and then let the smile show. “They could do worse.”

“I doubt if everybody would agree with you on that, but that’s the way it is.”

“I’d like to … join? Is that the right word?”

“Who the hell knows? We’re not a club, but, yeah, we’re glad to have you. We need all the help we can get.”

“How do you know you can trust me?” Rob asked.

“For one thing, you didn’t report my friends from New Haven. For another, you’re not an asshole. Anyway, we’re not important enough for King to send spies after us, at least not yet.”

“Big plans?”

Alex shook his head. “Not really. We’re just getting started. We did one small protest, got a fair amount of police harassment, but that’s all so far. That was before King’s newest changes, though. We’ll be organizing some serious protests soon.”

“I’d like to be in on that.”

“Absolutely. We’re going to be having a meeting soon, here as a matter of fact. Betsy’s a strong supporter of the Movement.”

“Movement?”

“That’s what we’re calling it, at least for now. It’s not official. Hell, we’re not official. I’m flying by the seat of my pants, just like everybody else. We’ve got a loosely organized group, contacts in several cities. We stay in touch and try to coordinate activities, but honestly, we need to work on planning and strategy.”

Rob nodded. “I’ll do whatever I can.”

“Okay, then. I’ll make sure you get an invitation to Patty’s graduation party.”

“I’m sorry?”

“That’s our cover for the next meeting.”

Rob lifted his coffee cup in a toast. “Here’s to Patty,” he said.

*          *          *          *          *

Alex was careful to get the mail from the mailbox every day since he was communicating with Ben on paper now. A week before Patty’s party, there was a brief note using the new code: _168 will join us at 763 to celebrate 643’s accomplishment. See you then._

He showed it to John. “Can you understand it?”

“Somebody’s going to be at Betsy’s for Patty’s party. Wait, let me think … 168 is Tony, right?”

“Yeah, it looks like Crazy Tony’s coming to Patty’s party. I wonder why.”

John thought for a minute. “Coordinating plans, probably.”

Alex leaned back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t have any plans. I really don’t know what to do next.”

John sat down next to him and put his head on Alex’s shoulder. “Maybe Ben’s got plans – or Tony. You’re not worrying, are you?”

Alex brushed John’s curls back and kissed his forehead. “I don’t know. Maybe. Some days I think we’re crazy for trying to do anything about King.”

John snuggled in closer. “We might be, but we can’t just do nothing.”

“I know, but – what’s it going to be like when people we know start going to jail? Or getting hurt?”

“We all know that might happen. We know the risks.”

Alex nodded, biting his lip.

John sat up and took Alex’s face in his hands. He smiled a little sadly. “It won’t be your fault, _mi amor.”_

Alex put his arms around John and pulled him in. “You know me so well.”

“Come here,” John said, turning Alex’s face toward him so he could kiss him, then he pressed his forehead against Alex’s. “It won’t be your fault,” he repeated softly. “You’re feeling guilty about things that haven’t happened, that may never happen. But no matter what, you’re going to lead, and lead well. We trust you.”

“I get scared sometimes.”

“I know.” John kissed him again.

Alex gave himself up to the kiss, loving John’s mouth on his, loving John. “I never knew anybody like you,” he murmured between kisses. “How do you … oh, shit, John, there’s no room on this damned couch …” He grabbed John’s hand and pulled him, laughing, into the bedroom.

“Door locked?” Alex asked reflexively as John took his shirt off.

“Yeah, why, you expecting somebody?” He knelt over Alex, smiling, his eyes bright, and shook his curls back. “Everybody’s working except you and me.” He unsnapped Alex’s jeans and helped him out of them.

“That’s because you’re my rich boyfriend,” Alex said, trying to wrap his legs around John’s, “and I’m your – what? Your boy toy?” he was laughing, when only a few months ago, the idea would have been infuriating and embarrassing.

“You want to be my toy?” John asked, yanking Alex’s boxers off. _“Oh, mi amor, quieres que juegue contigo? Te mostro …”_

Alex gasped as John took him in his hand, held him while he swirled his tongue around a few times, then let go long enough to get rid of his clothes. He came back and starting working Alex with his lips and tongue, warm and wet, a little pull, a little pressure.

“Jesus, John,” Alex gasped, his hips bucking. He reached down, trying to pull John toward him.

“No,” John told him, “not now.” He looked up at Alex and licked his lips, then gave a wicked grin. “You’re my toy, and I’m going to play with you.” He went back to what he had been doing.

Alex, unable to get his hands on John, needed to hold onto something, grabbed folds of the sheet with both hands. He was pushing himself into John’s mouth, and every time he moved, John would suck gently and then let his mouth go slack for Alex to pull back. When Alex pushed in, John would take him again, using his whole mouth and his hand until Alex thought he might pass out. He was panting and swearing, and finally John held him in, not relenting, and he came hard and deep, yelling, and then John was holding him, cuddling him, nuzzling his neck.

“I love you,” John whispered, kissing the sensitive spot just below Alex’s ear.

“I love you too,” Alex said, turning to look at him, his golden brown curls a tangled mess, his face flushed, his eyes more green than hazel. “God, look how beautiful you are.”

John lay back on the pillow and laughed out loud.

“What’s funny?” Alex asked.

“You. You telling me I’m pretty.” He looked sideways at Alex and batted his eyelashes. “You’re going to make me all conceited.”

Alex propped himself up on his elbow. “You’ve looked in a mirror, right?” He traced John’s face with his finger, forehead to jaw. “How can anybody think this isn’t the most beautiful face they’ve ever seen?”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.” Alex leaned in to kiss him on the mouth, then on the neck, then worked his way down, glancing up between kisses to see John’s lips part and his eyes lose focus. When he got his mouth on him, John whimpered and pushed his hips up. Alex teased him as long as he could, playing with him, taking him to the edge and back until John was sweating and cursing and begging. When Alex finally pulled him over, he threw his head back, wailing, and Alex didn’t release him until it was over. He wrapped his arms around him and waited for him to come down, still breathing hard, still shaky for a few minutes, and then John curled against him, back to front, tucking himself in tightly. Alex buried his face in John’s curls.

“You know,” John said, “there are better things to do in the summer than get a job.”

Alex snorted. “That’s true. We should do this eight hours a day.”

“You’d wear me out,” John snickered. “I’d be dead before September. Hell, I’d be dead before July.”

“Well, we can’t risk that. Still, nice way to spend an afternoon.”

“Fuck, yeah.”

They were quiet for a few minutes, and John’s breathing became slower and deeper.

“You going to sleep, _mi amor?”_ Alex asked.

“Mm, maybe. Stay with me?”

Alex pulled the sheet up over them both and held John close, every once in a while kissing the back of his neck, but mostly just feeling his warmth and the smoothness of his skin. He didn’t really want to go to sleep because he knew he had to work on some plans before Ben and Nat – and now Tony – came. They needed some specific strategies, some tactics that would work in every area. It would be absurd and redundant to expect each leader to come up with original ideas. Part of the reason they were organized the way they were was to share ideas and assure they were working toward a common goal. He had some half-formed designs floating around in his head, and he needed to pin them down and articulate them so he could have an intelligent discussion with the others.  

 _"You’re going to lead,”_ John had said. _“We trust you.”_

John was in his arms now, asleep, trusting him in so many different ways. Alex understood himself far better than he ever let anyone know, and he was well aware that in some ways, he probably didn’t deserve John’s trust. At the same time, he knew to the core of his being that if he ever had to choose between John’s life and his own, it would be John’s every time. He smiled a little ruefully. _That’s what I get for falling in love,_ he thought. He closed his eyes and let himself drift to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mount Sinai Saint Luke's (shortened to Saint Luke's for this story) Emergency Department, where Gil is interning, is a few blocks from the Columbia campus and two blocks from Gil's apartment. The center specializes in care for crime victims, and I think Gil will learn a lot. I made up the summer program, but for all I know, they may have one.  
> Robert Townsend is now fully on board. He's going to need to talk to Ben. Everybody will be back in town for Patty's graduation, and Eliza and Angelica will have some news.  
> Thanks as always for kudos and comments, which really, really (I am not just saying this) keep me motivated. I love hearing from my readers, so don't ever hesitate to drop me a line or a question. You can also find me on tumblr @daisy-rivers if you want to say hello over there. Thanks again and <3 <3 <3


	25. We're Doing This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angelica and Eliza, Ben and Nat return to New York for Patty's graduation. Crazy Tony also comes, because there is information to be shared. As the Movement makes plans, King's government reinstates an old law that will make criminals out of all of them.

John was in the shower, and Alex was on his third cup of coffee when he heard energetic knocking on the apartment door. He wasn’t exactly surprised, but it was barely nine-thirty in the morning. He opened the door for Angelica and Eliza, and they dropped their bags and took a few minutes for an enthusiastic three-way hug. Alex heard the shower go off and yelled to John, “They’re here! Put some clothes on!”

“You don’t have to, really!” Angelica added loudly.

“I’m making tea,” Eliza said. “Angelica dragged me out of bed in the middle of the night.”

“What time did your train leave Albany?” Alex asked.

“Six o’clock.”

“That’s brutal,” Alex said, raising an eyebrow at Angelica.

“It was either that or not get here until noon,” Angelica explained. “Is there any coffee left?”

“Sure, help yourself.”

John appeared then, fully clothed, and there were more hugs, and Eliza agreed to make him a cup of tea.

Angelica brought her coffee to the table and sat down. “I so need this.”

“Coffee?” Alex asked.

“Well, yes, but you know, just being here with you guys, and being able to talk about things, and not having Dad hovering and worrying.”

“Everything okay with your mom?”

“Yeah, in fact, we have news.” She looked at Eliza. “You want to tell them?”

Eliza smiled. “No, you go ahead.”

“It’s a girl,” Angelica announced. “There will be four Schuyler sisters.”

“Oh, cool,” John said, and raised his cup. “To the newest Schuyler sister.”

“Have they picked out a name?” Alex asked.

Angelica laughed. “No, Dad is really into all the old family names. He does that genealogy stuff online, you know? That’s how he came up with Angelica, Elizabeth, and Margarita, but Mom is trying to drag him into the twenty-first century. Right now, Mom likes the name Emma Grace, and Dad likes Dorothea Louisa.”

John nearly choked on his tea. “I am so with your mom on that.”

“So are we,” Eliza said. “It’s four to one, but I don’t think there’s actually going to be a family vote. Mom says they’ll work out a compromise, but Dad also has female ancestors named Cornelia and Gertrude. Last night he was saying that Neely would be a cute nickname for Cornelia.”

“Neely! Can you imagine? My God, the poor kid would be terrorized all through elementary school.” Angelica shook her head. “You see why we needed to get out of the house, right?”

“For sure,” Alex laughed. “It sounds like your dad is into it, though, having a surprise baby like this.”

“He is,” Eliza said, smiling. “It’s cute, really. He absolutely insisted that they have a cleaning service once a week so mom doesn’t have to worry about the house, and he’s trying to get Peggy to help with the cooking.”

“How’s that going?” John asked, remembering Peggy’s reluctance to help with Christmas dinner.

“Not well. Mom says she’d rather cook every meal herself than listen to Peggy’s whining, but I think Peggy can scramble eggs now, so that’s progress.”

“That’s why your mom wanted one of you to marry me,” John reminded them. “I could be cooking my Schuyler in-laws gourmet meals if things had worked out a little differently.”

“Excuse me,” Alex broke in, “a _little_ differently?”

John laughed and gave him a quick kiss. “Well, maybe a little more than a little.”

Eliza drank some tea. “It’s good to be here. I never thought I’d say it’s relaxing to be around Alex, but it is.” She looked at her sister. “Or maybe it’s just harder to be home after being away for a year. Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents, but being home is kind of like trying to go backwards. They think I’m still sixteen.” She realized she was talking about something John and Alex had no experience of, and hastily moved on. “When are Nat and Ben getting here?”

“This afternoon,” Alex told her.

“Are they staying here?”

“Yeah,” John said. “We invested in a couple of inflatable mattresses. You’re staying at Deb’s, right?”

Angelica nodded. “But she’s working today, so we came here first.”

“Tony’s coming up from Philly, too,” Alex told them. “You’ll have a chance to meet him.”

“That’s Crazy Tony, right?” Eliza asked.

Alex smiled. “That’s what they call him.”

“Why?”

“Well, he’s – how can I say it? – pretty crazy, maybe reckless sometimes. And then there’s that story about skateboarding in the Capitol crypt.”

“Seriously?”

“I didn’t witness it myself, but I heard it from reliable sources.”

“He sounds interesting,” Angelica commented. “Do you know why he’s coming?”

“Not specifically,” Alex said, “but I think we’re going to be doing some serious planning.”

“Good. King is getting worse and worse.”

King’s most recent order had put severe restrictions not only on immigration, but also on travel from dozens of countries. There had been formal protests from many foreign governments, including France, but King hadn’t budged. Additional outrage from cities and regions whose economies depended on international tourism had gotten nothing but a scolding about “serving our own citizens.”

Now the state legislatures were considering a variety of new amendments to the Constitution, just as Alex and TJ had discussed at the time of the election, when it had seemed improbable. Now it was beginning to look like it would actually happen. In the history of amendments to the Constitution, the trend had been to increase liberty and citizens’ rights: abolition of slavery, equal protection under the law, women’s suffrage, and so on. The proposed amendments being reviewed now, though, seemed intended to do the opposite. One would limit marriage to a union between one man and one woman, another would redefine citizenship through ancestry rather than birth, a third would ban speech that criticized the government under the guise of “inciting to sedition.”

The proposed amendments were the first topic of discussion when Nat and Ben got there.

“I know none of them have been passed yet,” Ben said, “but we have to assume they will be.”

“I’m more than a little concerned about the citizenship one,” Alex told them. “My mom was a citizen, but my dad was born in Scotland. He was never naturalized, and he went back to Scotland years ago.”

John didn’t say a word, but his face was suddenly more attentive. Was Alex saying his father was still alive?

“Surely they wouldn’t make a law like that retroactive,” Nat protested. “Do you really think they’ll revoke citizenship from people who already have it?”

“I wouldn’t rule that out,” Alex said.

“Shit, how far back would they go?” Herc asked. “My mom’s from Jamaica, but she was naturalized when she was a little kid, so she was a citizen when I was born. Are they trying to change that?”

Ben sighed. “Who knows? It’s all still being debated. You’re in better shape than Alex on that, though.”

“Gee, thanks,” Alex remarked.

“Don’t worry, babe,” John said. “I’ll make you an ID that says both your parents were born in Queens.”

Alex laughed, but Ben said, “Actually, yes, please do that. The bigger problem, though, will be changing the records. That’s one of the things Tony’s going to talk about when he gets here.”

“What do you mean?” Alex asked.

“We’re going to hack into government websites.”

“Oh, shit.”

*          *          *          *          *

The apartment living room was small at best, with room for a couch, one chair, and a desk. There was a table off to the side that sat four people comfortably and six squashed together, divided from the tiny kitchen by a counter. Twelve people made the space overcrowded.

“I’m helping the problem by not taking up a chair for myself,” Patty said smugly, sitting comfortably on Nat’s lap on the couch.

“And we appreciate your sacrifice,” Alex told her. “Hey, Deb, how about you give Tony your chair and sit on Gil’s lap?”

“No, I need Deb over here,” Ben objected. “I need everybody at the table who’s got good tech skills. I mean better than being able to use maps and google.”

“I’m out,” John said, and dropped to the floor, where he usually sat anyway. Herc and Gil joined him. That left Alex, Angelica, Deb, and Rob at the table with Ben and Tony. Eliza curled up in the one armchair and Patty and Nat had the couch to themselves. They hadn’t seen each other for three weeks.

“Yo! Get a room!” John yelled, smacking Nat’s ankle from the floor. “Jesus, kids these days!”

“We were only kissing,” Nat told him, and then smiled when he saw John’s grin.

“They’re cute, aren’t they?” John asked, looking around the room for a response.

“Adorable,” Ben agreed. “Patty and Natty. See how well that goes together?”

“Oh, God, there he goes,” Nat muttered. “For the last year, it’s been Hale from Yale every time my name came up, and now …”

Patty was giggling. “I kind of like it,” she said.

“No,” Nat protested. “No, you don’t. Don’t encourage him.”

Ben turned back to the table laughing and got involved in a discussion of back doors and sniffers.

“Well, if we’re not doing the high-tech stuff, what’s our job?” Herc asked.

“I’m making IDs and any other documents we need,” John said. “How about you, Natty? Sorry, Nat.”

“Communications. I’m doing a lot of writing and encoding. Patty is too.”

Patty nodded. “Turns out I’m good at memorizing numbers. And I’m also going to be doing courier duty. Nobody’s going to question a girl going to see her boyfriend.”

“We hope,” Eliza said. “I don’t think I have any special duties yet.”

“What are you good at?” Nat asked.

“Knitting,” Eliza told him. “Making brownies. Negotiating.”

“Negotiating?”

“I’m the middle child. I learned to settle the fights. I think that’s why I want to be a lawyer.”

“Negotiating skills might be useful,” Herc said.

Gil finally spoke up. “I do not think King’s people will negotiate with us.”

“You’re probably right. How about you? Alex says you’re in pre-med. Are you going to be available for medic duty?”

Gil shrugged. “Maybe, if it’s needed, but I am also a very good shot. I think I would prefer to be a sniper.”

*          *          *          *          *

Betsy had decided to close early for Patty’s graduation party; evenings were never very busy anyway. The room was decorated with streamers in the school’s blue and gold, as well as balloons and a big “Congratulations” banner across the wall. Presents were piled on a table, and there were platters of sandwiches as well as a cake.

After everyone ate and Patty opened her cards and presents, her mom and the handful of high school friends who had come left, and Betsy, Mark, and Deb cleaned up.

“Not you,” Betsy ordered, as Patty started to pick up plates. “It’s your party.”

Patty didn’t object, sitting back down next to Nat and holding his hand. Angelica looked over at them from the next table. “Patty and Natty,” she mused. “Every time I see them, I think that now.”

“I consider that a personal triumph,” Ben said.

“I’ll get my revenge,” Nat told him.

“I don’t see how.”

“Do you know, I pray every night that you’ll marry a girl named Gwen.”

“Or Jen,” Angelica offered.

“How about Gwendolyn Jennifer Penn,” Alex suggested, “so we can say ‘There’s Gwen Jen Penn and Ben’?”

“If only Gwen Jen Penn existed,” Nat said.

“Maybe that can be a tech project for us,” Tony proposed. “We’ll investigate to see if there is a Gwendolyn Jennifer Penn anywhere in the country.”

“Great idea,” Nat agreed.

“Only kidding, though,” Tony said. “Not that I’m not loving the party, but we have serious shit to discuss.”

Betsy locked up, made sure all the blinds were pulled and the lights out, and they went back to the conference room.

“First things first,” Tony announced. “I heard from Jim Bridges last week.”

“How?” Alex asked.

“Paper, handwritten, no return address or info. Jim and his family have moved, but I don’t know where. Probably never will. He wanted to tell me that there were no records kept of our internship.”

“None?” Alex asked.

“Nothing. You were told about it in person, right? There was no email or phone contact?”

Alex nodded. “Right. I didn’t realize that was odd because this was the first time I’d ever been involved in an internship. But how can there not be any record at all? What about the stipend checks?”

“Private money, account created in a small independent bank, then closed right after the internship was over.”

“But wouldn’t the bank have records and your names?” Eliza asked.

Tony smiled. “You would think, wouldn’t you? Strangely, though, a computer virus hit that small independent bank, and a lot of their records were deleted.”

“How did you do that?” Alex asked with interest.

“Phished it in an email. It’s amazing how many people will open attachments without knowing who they’re from. Makes this so much easier.”

“Thank God for stupid bank employees,” Ben murmured devoutly.

“Okay, so no check records,” Nat said, “but we stayed at St. Denis.”

“That part’s okay,” Tony responded. “We have friends at St. Denis.”

“You’re sure?”

“Jim was as sure as he could be. Even if not, the payment to St. Denis was made from the same account as our stipends. We never had any individual dealings with them, so they didn’t have our names.”

“What was the name on that account?” Alex asked.

Tony grinned. “You can’t say the General doesn’t have a sense of humor. You saw the acronym on the checks, right? APFI?”

“Yeah,” Alex nodded, “I thought it was something something Federal Interns.”

“No, the account was opened for a fake group called Associated Participants in Factual Independence.”

“What does that even mean?” Angelica inquired.

“Absolutely nothing,” Tony told her. “Polysyllabic gobbledygook. Another thing to remember – if you use fancy words and titles, you can convince people you’re official.”

Herc had been listening from where he sat. “Don’t break character,” he said, half to himself.

“What?” Tony asked, turning around to see him.

“I was in Drama Club in high school,” Herc responded. “It was a big thing that the director kept pounding into us. No matter what happens, you have to remain in character. She would say things like, ‘I don’t care if somebody falls off the stage, you stay in character.’ You’re saying we’re all going to be playing different parts, using different identities. We have to stay in those characters if we’re going to be believable.”

“Yes, exactly,” Tony said. “If you present yourself to somebody as the chairman of the Rose Garden Appreciation Society, you’d better know something about roses.”

Gil nodded. “When we went to Louisiana, Alex had worked out backgrounds for us to go with our identities. If we had been questioned, we would have answers prepared.”

Tony looked at Alex. “How detailed were the backstories?”

“Not very,” Alex shrugged. “I could have done better if I’d taken more time with it, but I made sure to account for our being in Louisiana, and for Gil‘s accent. He practiced Cajun pronunciation.”

“That’s really good,” Tony told him. “We’ve all got alternate ID’s now, thanks to John. So, Alex, I want you to be sure everybody has a good backstory, detailed enough to be plausible, but not easily disproven. I need somebody to do a thorough internet search for communities where fires or floods have destroyed vital records. If all the birth records in East Nowhere, Iowa, went up in flames five years ago, that’s a good place for you to have been born.”

“I’ll do that,” Deb volunteered.

“Okay, when you get the info, give it to Alex. At some point, we’re going to be able to hack into vital records databases, but until then, we need as much cover as possible. How long will it take you, Alex?”

Alex considered for a few minutes. “Twelve here, plus Betsy, Johan, Nate, and Joe. You want one, Tony?”

“Yeah, and I’ve got guys in Philly who will need them.”

“I’m going to need some of their actual background information. I’ve got to take into account things like regional accents and familiarity with places. Nobody would believe you were from Georgia, for example, just hearing you talk.”

“Right, so in my fake backstory, I’d have to be from Philly?”

“Not necessarily, but from near enough that your accent wouldn’t sound out of place.” Alex paused, thinking, then said, “Tell me something about Philadelphia that only people from there would know.”

Tony frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Okay, well, in New York, anybody would know that we pronounce Houston Street as House-ton, not like the city in Texas. If you weren’t from New York, and somebody was trying to test you, they might ask you something about that area, something located on that street, to see how you pronounce it. If you get it wrong, you’re not a New Yorker.”

Everybody was listening to Alex now.

“Oh, wow, I see what you mean,” Tony said. “Like somebody could tell me they had a friend who lives on 14th Street in Philly, and I’d know they were lying.”

“Why?” Ben asked.

“Because there’s no 14th Street in Philly. There’s a 13th Street and a 15th Street, but the one between them is Broad Street.”

“That’s just weird,” Angelica commented.

“It might be,” Alex said, “but that’s how people get tripped up. That’s why I can’t give Tony a New York backstory. He’ll be from Philly or somewhere near enough to it that he’d know the thing about Broad Street, or any other Philadelphia idiosyncrasy. That’s why I have to have basic factual information on everybody who needs an identity backstory – which is, I suppose, everybody in the Movement. I may give Tony a story that says he was born in East Nowhere, Iowa, or wherever the vital records got burned, but he grew up in Philly.” He turned to Tony. “I’ll need a little time. I’ll have the groundwork done in a week or so after Deb finds me some vital records disasters, and then maybe another week to do details. Like, if you have a sister named Ava in real life, I might give you a sister named Avery rather than, say, a brother named Christopher. If you make a slip, it’s easy to cover.”

There was a long pause, and then Ben said, “How long have you been working on this?”

Alex looked a little embarrassed. “Well, I needed to think about it before John and Gil and I went to Louisiana.”

“But you’ve already worked it all out in your head, how you’re going to build a story for each of us?”

“Yeah. Probably more than one story for each of us. Sooner or later, somebody will get suspicious about something, or somebody’s story will get compromised. John will make sure we each have at least three IDs, and I’ll be sure there are stories to go with them. Then you all have to study the stories to make sure you know them forward and backward.”

“And you don’t break character,” Herc added.

Rob Townsend had been silent, but now he broke in. “I’m sorry, but when are we going to use these secret identities? As far as I can see, we’re just living out own lives as ourselves. This all seems, I don’t know, a little fanciful.”

“It might be,” Ben conceded, “but first, we don’t want to communicate under our real names. We’re using paper, and we’re coding as much as possible, but using fake names is another layer of security. By the way, we all need to rent some private mailboxes at shipping stores. Let’s not use the Post Office. Also, once these new identities and stories are set up, we’ll want email accounts, maybe other social media in those names. The thing is, Rob, we don’t know how fast things are going to change, or how far King may go. If we have all this in place ahead of time, we’ll all be safer.”

Rob nodded, still a little thoughtful. He saw Ben’s point, but hoped it would all prove to be unnecessary.

Alex started to say something, but his phone dinged, and he took it out of his pocket. “It’s TJ,” he said, frowning. TJ didn’t text him socially, so it had to be important. As he was tapping in his passcode, Ben’s phone rang. Ben looked at the screen, then at Alex. “Ethan,” he said.

“Well, shit,” Tony muttered, “this won’t be good.” His phone and Nat’s went off at the same time.

Alex was the first one to read all the way through his message. He looked around the room, obviously angry at what he had seen. “Congress has reinstated the Smith Act of 1940,” he announced through clenched teeth.

“What does that mean?” Patty asked, holding tight to Nat’s arm.

“All non-citizens must report immediately to be registered and fingerprinted. If they do not, they will face prison.”

“What if they’re here legally?”

“Doesn’t matter.” He slammed his hand down on the table. “Fingerprinted, like they’re criminals.”

Gil met his eyes across the room. “That would include me, then?”

“No, they can’t …” Eliza began, her eyes wide.

Gil gave her a twisted smile. “Oh, but they can, _ma chère.”_

Everybody started talking at once, but Ben shouted above the uproar. “Shut up! There’s more to the Smith Act.”

“Fuck the Smith Act!” John yelled.

Ben held up his hand, and John shut up, but sat seething, tapping his hand on the floor. Herc threw an arm around his shoulders to hold him in place.

Ben held his phone so he could read from it. “The Smith Act also makes it a crime to organize any society, group, or assembly of persons who teach, advocate, or encourage the advisability of overthrowing the government, to be a member of, or to affiliate with any such group.”

“So what you’re saying is that right now, just by meeting like this, we’re committing a crime?” Rob asked.

“That’s correct.”

“Well, then,” Rob said, “I agree with John. Fuck the Smith Act.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actual facts: There is no 14th Street in Philadelphia, and Houston Street in New York is pronounced House-ton. I strive for accuracy.  
> Also, the Smith Act of 1940 was a real thing in the US. It was repealed in 1952. It makes interesting reading about how intentions can be criminalized even if no acts are committed.  
> Thanks for the recent kudos and comments. I love hearing from you all, so tell me what you think.


	26. Shouting in the Square

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex helps coordinate protest marches in several cities. As the protestors march down the streets of New York City to Times Square, various things occur, some unexpected. The friends become separated as the Movement has its first real clash with the Greaters. Atheist Gil quotes the Bible.

By noon the next day, they had a plan in place. The protest was starting in forty-eight hours. Alex had applied for a protest permit, but they were going to march whether they got a permit or not. Angelica and Eliza were staying in the city to participate. Tony had returned to Philadelphia and Ben and Nat to New Haven to organize protests there, and they got confirmation that TJ, Frank, Ethan, and the others were doing the same. John designed flyers, and he and Herc gave them out on and off campus. There seemed to be more interest that there had been in the first protest, but also a new wariness about the increased and militarized police presence.

Gil had gone to Monsieur Gérard at the Embassy to see if there was a way he could avoid the new requirements, but he hadn’t heard back yet. Non-citizens had only thirty days to register, so there wasn’t a lot of time for diplomats to negotiate with the government.

“What are you going to do if they say you have to register?” Deb asked Gil.

He shrugged, but his face was set as it always was when he had made up his mind to something. “I don’t know yet.”

“I don’t understand why you would have to register when you’re not planning to stay here. You’re a student, not an immigrant.”

“I don’t think that matters to President King and his people. I think it’s enough to them that I am a foreigner.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Yes, of course, but one cannot simply say ‘This law is ridiculous, so I do not obey it.’” Gil said impatiently. He stopped and shook his head, then took her hand. “I’m sorry. I should not talk as if you do not know this. In fact, I may disobey this law, but not without investigating what the consequences might be.”

“Do you think they would deport you?” Deb asked, her voice shaky.

“Probably, but I would come back.”

“Why? That’s crazy. Why would you come back when you’d probably be arrested?”

Gil flashed her his most charming grin. “I like the guns,” he said.

*     *     *     *     *

The day before the protest was to take place, Alex got word that the permit had been denied. He wasn’t surprised.

“Oh, well,” he shrugged. “This is where civil disobedience kicks in.”

He made sure that everyone was aware that they’d been refused permission, so that they could make their choice about whether to participate. It didn’t look like many planned to back out.

“One protest won’t change a law, no matter how well it goes,” he reminded the others over coffee, “but if they see that a majority of citizens oppose King’s actions, some members of Congress may grow a spine and stand up to him.”

“Especially if there are protests in a dozen or more cities,” John added optimistically.

“Just remember,” Alex continued, “that the protest isn’t permitted. We could be arrested for disturbing the peace. If we get separated and you do get arrested, call me. We’ve got some guys at Legal Aid who can help, and we’ve got some money if we need it – not a lot, though, so don’t all of you get arrested at once.”

It was a feeble attempt at a joke, but they smiled anyway.

“Dad’s not going to like it if we get arrested,” Angelica said to her sister.

Eliza nodded. “Maybe he won’t find out.”

“Let’s hope.”

*          *          *          *          *

The protest march was to start at the campus and go south on Amsterdam Avenue to Broadway and then on to Times Square, where they would meet up with more protestors from other organizations. At the same time, in other cities, there would be marches in the largest public spaces. They were planned for maximum visibility and maximum publicity. All Movement leaders were emphasizing the concept of peaceful protest. 

“If anything gets out of hand,” Alex reminded them all early in the morning, “it won’t be because we started it.”

Unlike last time, they weren’t all gathering at Alex and John’s apartment because there were just too many of them. They were going to assemble on Amsterdam Avenue, and once there was a crowd there, start walking.

It was no surprise that there were dozens of police officers – Greaters – in evidence.

“Let’s see your permit,” one of them demanded as the protestors began to gather. Alex had prepped everybody for this.

“Joanna has it,” he told the officer politely. “She’ll be here in a minute.”

The Greater was irritated, but apparently wasn’t aware that no permit had been issued. He began asking random women if they were Joanna, and people were responding with helpful information like, “She’s just up the block there,” or “She’s wearing a bright red sweater. You can’t miss her.” That all generated some confusion, and then someone else, as planned, told the Greater that it wasn’t Joanna who had the permit, it was Orlando, giving a description of Orlando to make it even more complicated. Greaters continued to search for Joanna and Orlando while the rest of the crowd began to move south.

“You think they’ll find Joanna?” John asked Alex, trying not to laugh.

“Nah, I think she and Orlando were on their way to JFK to catch a plane.”

“You sure there’s no Joanna or Orlando in this crowd?” Herc asked, looking around. There were a lot of participants he didn’t recognize.

“As sure as I can be,” Alex said. “I asked everybody I could think of, and nobody knew anyone with those names. Worst case scenario, the Greaters find some poor guy named Orlando and question him, but he won’t have any connection to us.”

“That’s pretty heartless,” Deb told him, disapproval in her voice. “It sounds like you don’t care if some guy gets hassled, as long as we don’t know him.”

“Not quite,” Alex told her. “I care a little less, though, if it doesn’t put our group at risk. Besides, anybody protesting today knows there’s a chance of getting harassed.”

As if on cue, a police car turned sideways across Amsterdam Avenue to block their way.

“Keep walking,” Alex called out, and the word was passed along. There were two Greaters in the car, but dozens, maybe hundreds, of marchers, and they kept walking. The police officers glared, but didn’t take any action.

“It doesn’t look to me like they have any real plan to deal with us,” John said to Alex. “Are we supposed to be intimated by their presence?”

“Probably. Remember that most of these Greaters are new hires, and I doubt if they’ve had a lot of training yet. We’ll just keep walking.”

The marchers carried signs with a variety of messages. Many said, “Repeal the Smith Act;” others called for re-opening the national parks. Quite a few had the words _Have, Hope, Deplo_ inside a red circle with a bar across it. Holding the signs and banners high, they continued marching south, and more people joined in. It was beginning to look as if King’s most recent actions were finally getting the attention it would take to bring real change. Alex turned around, walking backwards for a few steps. Herc and Johan were behind him, and he caught a glimpse of Eliza’s bright blue scarf farther back, but he couldn’t see Gil or Patty or any of the others. He felt a small twinge of anxiety, but reminded himself that they were all adults and knew what was expected of them. He turned back to John, “Don’t get too far from me, okay?”

John smiled. “I’ll hold your hand if you want.”

Alex took him up on it. “We might as well piss the Greaters off for that too.”

A few blocks later, a group of protestors from a local church joined them. They were singing a song Alex didn’t recognize. He quickened his pace to catch up with them and approached a guy with an Afro, glasses and a clerical collar. “What are you singing?” he asked.

The guy grinned at him. “Old civil rights protest song I learned from my granddad,” he said. “Seems like everything old is new again, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I do. I’m Alex, by the way. We’re with Students for a Progressive Government.”

The clergyman held out his hand. “Tim Dwight – the Reverend Timothy Dwight, if you want the whole thing, but most people call me Tim, and the kids call me Rev.”

“Your grandfather marched in the civil rights movement?”

“Yeah, but he was a kid himself at the time. My great-grandfather, now, he was the one fighting that fight. He died before I was born, but according to Granddad, he marched with some of the greatest.”

“So you come by this naturally?”

Tim shook his head. “I don’t think any sane person comes by fighting the powers that be naturally. It’s always a struggle, but we have to stand up for the truth and for our rights.”

“Yeah, that’s why we’re doing this,” Alex agreed. “Glad to make your acquaintance. Can I get your number? Maybe we can coordinate some activities?”

“Sure.” Tim took Alex’s proffered phone and tapped in his information. “Let’s hope we can get some attention, get some changes made.” He turned to some members of his congregation who were close by. “This guy’s Alex,” he said. “We’re going to teach him a song.”

It wasn’t long before dozens more of the marchers had joined in the old protest song that Tim was leading in a call-and-response. By the time they reached Broadway, they were singing _“Ain’t gonna let George King turn me around, turn me around, turn me around,”_ and there were police cars on the street, forcing the marchers up onto the sidewalks and slowing them down. Alex was still holding John’s hand, but he had no idea where Herc and Johan had gotten to. He kept looking over his shoulder.

John yanked on his hand. “They’re fine,” he said.

“Yeah.” Alex was a little embarrassed. “It’s just … _damn_ , there must be hundreds of people here.”

“Probably thousands. That’s good, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” He looked back again. “Why aren’t they giving us more trouble?”

“Like you said, most of them are new, don’t know much …”

“Yeah, I …” Alex, barely five foot nine, couldn’t see more than a few feet in any direction. “It doesn’t feel right. I wish I’d told everybody to stay together.” _I should have set up checkpoints so we’d know where everybody was. I should have arranged a meeting place after the march. I should at least have told everybody to text me every hour or so._ He pulled John with him into an alcove by a shoe store. “I’m going to call Angelica.”

Angelica didn’t answer.

“She’s probably got her phone in her purse and didn’t hear it,” John said sensibly. “It’s noisy.” He was right. Dozens, maybe hundreds of people were singing and chanting, and practically everybody was talking.

Alex texted Angelica: _Where are you? Is Eliza w you?_

“She’ll get back to you,” John told him.

Alex shoved his phone back in his pocket. They were almost at Times Square, and it seemed like the noise level was increasing. He could feel the excitement running through the crowd as they got closer to their destination. There would be media coverage there, reporters looking for statements. He was ready if anyone wanted to hear from him. He’d rehearsed some words in his head, just in case they were needed. He smiled at John and held his hand tighter, and John gave him a grin, his eyes sparkling. “Let’s give ’em hell, _mi amor._ ”

At first the high-pitched noise seemed like more shouting, but within seconds, they realized that they were hearing screams.

“What the fuck?” Alex muttered, starting to run. The crowd was so dense that it was hard to make any headway, and it didn’t take long for him to grasp that there were people running toward him, _away_ from Times Square. Some of them were coughing and choking or holding their shirts over their faces.

“Tear gas,” John said angrily.

They kept going, weaving their way between those going in the opposite direction. There was more than screaming coming from up ahead now. As they came to the northern end of Times Square they heard the crashing of breaking glass and saw some of the marchers picking up anything they could to throw through windows.

“Shit!” Alex yelled. “What are they doing?” He ran forward, John with him, trying to get to a small group that seemed to have brought their own rocks and broken bricks to throw. “What’s the matter with you? This is supposed to be a peaceful protest. Leave the stores alone.”

“Fuck you!” a dirty guy with a straggly beard told him. “I’m not leaving till I use up all my bricks.”

“What are you talking about?” Alex grabbed the guy by the arm. “Why the hell did you bring bricks anyway?”

The bearded guy squinted at him, as if trying to focus. “I didn’t bring them. Cop gave them to me. I’m getting ten bucks a brick.”

“A _cop_ gave them to you?”

“Yeah.” He let fly another one through the glass door of a candy store. “Over there.” He gestured vaguely in the direction of 48th Street. “You can get some too.”

Alex did a quick assessment of the rock-throwers and concluded that many of them were probably homeless, desperate to make a little money. Before he had time to say anything, John leaned in and spoke to him. “The tear gas is coming from the south end of the square.  Looks like they’re moving in.”

“Fucking Greaters were giving out rocks for people to throw, making us look bad.”

John nodded. “We should move back or we’re going to get hit with the tear gas.”

“Where the fuck is everybody? I haven’t seen a single person I know in an hour.”

John shrugged, trying to pull Alex away from what was evidently a coordinated line of Greaters moving from south to north. Alex’s eyes were starting to burn. He looked over his shoulder to see that the bearded guy and his buddies were gone. He thought fast, then pulled John with him. “Come on.” He kicked out the rest of the broken glass in the candy store door, then climbed through.

John followed, muttering, “You’re fucking nuts.”

“I want to see what’s going on,” Alex said. He found a vantage point several feet inside the store. One of the windows was still intact, so they had at least partial protection from the tear gas but could see most of what was happening in the square.

Tear gas canisters were flying through the air, and people were running in all directions to try to get away. For a minute Alex couldn’t understand why they didn’t turn around and go back north as they had been doing when he and John first got to the square, but then he saw that another line of Greaters had formed at the northern end of the square, so the marchers were trapped. There were three or four Greaters in front of the store, their backs to it so they could face the crowd.

“They look pretty dangerous to me,” one of the Greaters yelled to another, his tone mocking. “What do you think?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” his friend called back. “I definitely fear for my life. I bet some of them have guns.”

Without warning, the Greaters started firing into the trapped crowd of people already disabled by the tear gas. The sounds of the shots and the screams of the wounded echoed off the tall buildings surrounding the square so that it seems the shots were coming from all directions at once. Alex lunged forward to run out, but John tackled him and held him down.

“They’ll kill you,” John whispered, his hand over Alex’s mouth.

Alex’s eyes met John’s, as horrified as he was. He gave a quick nod of acquiescence, and John let him up. They inched closer to the window.

“Not too many,” someone who seemed to be a senior officer was shouting.

The first Greater who had spoken looked at his commander and grinned. “Just a couple more?”

The commander shrugged, and then let out a scream as a shot shattered his kneecap.

“ _Gun! Gun!”_ the first Greater yelled, this time with real fear in his voice. The next shot took him down in exactly the same way, and the two Greaters lay on the sidewalk screaming in agony. The others fired randomly a few times because the echoes made it impossible to know where the shots were coming from, and then they heard another officer shouting, “Cease fire! Fall back!”

The remaining Greaters ran, leaving their wounded colleagues sobbing and writhing on the ground. Within minutes all of them except the two wounded ones were gone. The tear gas had mostly dissipated, so people in the square were trying to help one another. Alex and John joined them, putting pressure on bullet wounds, helping hand out water bottles that people were grabbing from stores with broken windows. A few yards away, Alex saw Tim Dwight, his shirt covered with blood, doing the same thing.

“Yo, Rev!” he called. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” the pastor responded. “How bad is it?”

“Don’t know yet.” Alex handed a bottle of water to a young woman who was shaking and sobbing but appeared to be uninjured, then jogged over to Tim. “Have you seen any dead?” he asked quietly.

Tim shook his head. “They mostly fired over the crowd. Not all, mind you. They wanted to hit some, but they could have slaughtered all of us. They want us terrified more than they want us dead.”

“It’s working,” Alex said, surveying the crowd. “Did you see where the other shots came from? The ones that hit the Greaters over there?”

“No idea,” Tim said. “Are they badly injured?”

“They’re not going to die,” Alex said, “but any hope they had of playing football is gone. Whoever it was got them both right in the kneecap.”

Tim’s eyebrows went up. “Really? A sniper?”

Alex gasped.

“What?” Tim asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Nothing,” Alex said, looking around slowly. “I didn’t say anything.”

The first ambulance arrived a few minutes later, and they did what they could to help. Tim estimated about fifteen protestors shot, two or three fairly seriously, but it looked like they would all survive. John was translating for a young man whose girlfriend had been shot. “ _Vine a estar con Mónica. Dónde la llevan? No soy americano. No hablo ingles.”_ The kid was in tears, and deeply grateful to find someone he could communicate with. John got the hospital information for him and told him how to get there.

He had just turned around to see if there was something else he could do when he heard his name, and saw Eliza racing across the square, sobbing. She threw herself at him, grabbing his shoulders. “Where’s Alex? Is Alex here?”

“He’s okay,” John told her, holding her tight. “He’s around here somewhere.” He looked over her head and saw Angelica, then Herc and Johan.

“What the fuck happened here?” Herc asked, his face grim. “We got cut off just north of the square.”

“Thank God you did,” Alex said, stepping up to join them. He held out his arms to Eliza, and she fell into them, sobbing on his shoulder.

Angelica, a few feet behind her sister, looked from Eliza and Alex to John.

“C’mere,” John said to her softly, holding out his hand. Angelica let John pull her in. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “We’re all okay.” He felt her nod, then felt the warm tears on his neck. He kissed her hair. “We’re all okay, you understand me?”

She nodded again, then pulled back, wiping her eyes with her hand like a little kid.

Alex kept his arm around Eliza and asked, “Do you know where Gil and Deb are? Or Patty?”

Nobody did, but the good news was that they weren’t among the wounded in the square. Alex called Tim Dwight over and introduced him. He was gathering together the remainder of his congregation. One of them, a kid of about fifteen, had been grazed by a bullet to his upper arm, but had refused to go to a hospital.

“If you think I’m getting in a car, even an ambulance, with any of them, think again,” declared the kid, whose name was Danny. “My mom can take care of this.”

Tim didn’t argue. Another one of his people, Alice, had twisted her ankle badly and needed help to walk. John went back into the candy store and got ice out of their freezer, wrapped it in Eliza’s scarf and tied it to Alice’s ankle. “Do you need a ride home?” he asked.

“I was going to get the bus,” she said uncertainly, looking from John to Tim.

“Are the streets open?” Tim asked.

Herc and Johan took off to check and came back to report that while Times Square itself remained closed off by police barricades, the surrounding streets were open to traffic.

“Let’s get you a cab,” John said to Alice.

She shook her head. “I don’t … I can’t …”

“I got it,” he told her, smiling. He and Herc half carried her out of the square and flagged down a cab, and John handed the driver a wad of cash that included a tip large enough to take his entire family out to dinner. The driver promised in return to be sure that Alice got safely into her apartment. She was still thanking them when the cab pulled away.

“She’s a third-grade teacher,” Tim was saying to Alex. “She says she wants to set an example for her students.”

“Good people,” Alex nodded. “Everybody here today was good people, marching for justice.” He told Tim about the group who had evidently been paid to throw rocks and break windows and about what he had heard the Greaters say before the shooting started.

“They planned to shoot all along, then,” Tim said.

“That’s what it sounded like.” Alex looked over to where the wounded Greaters had lain until they were picked up by an ambulance, and then his gaze circled the area, looking for places where a sniper might have been concealed. They were literally countless, the square surrounded by multiple-story buildings. It couldn’t have been on the same side as the Greaters, though, because they were shot from the front. On the opposite side, there was a hotel as well as four or five office buildings.

“Where do you think?” Tim asked, understanding what Alex was looking for.

“Impossible to figure out. I just wonder who would have guessed that there would be shooting.”

“I’m sure whoever it was thinks they were helping. Thinks they’re on our side, I mean.”

“I have no doubt of it,” Alex agreed.

“We don’t want to encourage violence, though,” Tim continued.

Alex was silent for a minute, then he looked Tim in the eye. “We’re on the same side, Rev,” he said, “but I don’t know that we’re going to be taking the same road. I promise you that I don’t encourage needless violence, but I won’t lie and say we won’t shoot back. This is the beginning of a war, and we’re going to be fighting.”

Tim nodded and held out his hand. “Like you say, different roads. I’ll be praying for you all, no matter what. Call me any time.”

Alex gripped his hand. “I will. You’ll hear from me.”

Tim gathered up the remaining stragglers from his congregation and they headed out of the square.

There weren’t many people left in the blocked-off area. The ones still there were those who had been badly overcome by the tear gas or who were still shaky and tearful. Alex and his friends made phone calls for some whose phones had died or been dropped and crushed in the melee, made sure everyone had water, and then Herc said, “We ought to go home. We don’t want to be the last people here when the Greaters come to re-open the square.”

“Good point,” Alex agreed. “Let’s go.”

It was a long walk back to campus, and they spent most of it trying to contact Gil, Deb, Patty, and the others. John got through to Mark, who told him Patty and Deb were safe at Betsy’s. Nate Pendleton and Joe Allicocke had actually been in the square when the shooting started, but had been able to duck into an alleyway, where they were lucky enough to find a restaurant worker who opened a back door to them. They went through the kitchen of Zaide’s Deli and out the front door onto 8th Avenue, and from there back to campus. Angelica finally got a text back from Gil who said he had been separated from Deb in the crowd and had still been well north of the square when he heard gunshots. Alex made sure that everyone got the message to meet at his and John’s apartment at six. They had a lot to talk about.

*          *          *          *          *

“Someday,” John said, “we’re going to get tired of pizza, and Vincenzo’s will go out of business.”

“I think we’re good for a few years yet,” Herc told him, helping himself to another slice. “How old is Vincenzo, anyway?”

John shrugged. “I think he’s got to be in his sixties. Talks about immigrating as a kid with his parents back in the day.”

“We ought to be able to get him to retirement age then,” Herc said. “After that we can worry about ordering something besides pizza.”

Alex boosted himself up onto the counter and tapped it with a spoon to get everybody’s attention. John and Herc sat back down on the floor with their pizza and prepared to listen.

“You all know the basic facts of what happened today, so I’m not going to recap that, and most of you watched the evening news a few minutes ago. What did you think?”

“It was bullshit,” Johan said through a mouthful of pizza. He took a gulp of soda and continued. “We know there was nobody in the crowd who drew weapons on the Greaters. They fired first.”

“Do any of you know anybody who talked to a reporter?” Angelica asked. “I expected to find Times Square full of journalists and satellite trucks, but there were none there. How did they keep them from getting access? That big a demonstration is news, so where was the press?”

Alex tapped a note into his phone. “Okay, that’s something we need to find out. I’ve heard from Ben and Frank, and they say the same thing was true in Connecticut and Charleston – no press on the scene at all.”

“What does Tony say?” Eliza inquired.

“I haven’t heard from him yet, and neither has Ben. I’m getting a little concerned.”

Gil was on the far side of the living room, sitting on the floor in front of Deb’s chair, his head leaning on her knees. He sat up straight now. “Was there shooting at every protest?”

Alex nodded. “Some places worse, some not as bad. There was one dead in Boston, and two in critical condition. Only half a dozen or so injuries in Charleston. Every other place was somewhere in between.”

“And were any Greaters shot or otherwise injured in any of these other cities?” Gil pursued.

Alex gave a little snort of laughter and shook his head slowly from side to side. “Not that I’ve heard, unless it was in Philly. Tony’s the only one nobody’s talked to yet.”

“So here there was at least some actual _résistance,_ ” Gil said, his accent so pronounced that the final word was in French.

“Yeah, you might put it that way,” Alex responded.

“Any ideas about who the sniper was?” Joe Allicocke asked.

“Not a clue,” Alex said blandly.

“Whoever it was, they were damned good,” Johan put in. “Kneecapped both of those bastards from God only knows what distance.”

“Yep, definitely a good shot,” Alex agreed. “Okay, the next thing …” he broke off impatiently as his phone rang, pulling it out of his pocket and checking the screen. “Alex Hamilton,” he said, and then, “Yeah … yeah … shit, is he okay? How many others hurt? Listen, let me ask you something, was there any press coverage? Okay … yeah, keep me posted.” He put his phone down and looked up. “That was a guy named Will Hays. He’s part of Tony’s group. Tony was shot today.” He waved his hands as everybody exclaimed at once. “He’s okay. He was hit in the thigh; they had to dig the bullet out, but it missed the bone, so it could have been a lot worse. He’s home now, and the biggest problem according to Will is that he’s pissed as hell. They’re trying to make him get some rest, so Will’s handling the calls.” He turned to Patty. “Can you text Nat with an update of what I just said? I told Will I’d let the Yale guys know.”

Patty pulled out her phone and started texting, and Alex tried to remember what he’d been about to say. “Okay, I want to be sure we get some connections in the press, because the narrative we saw on tonight’s news was not at all what really happened. Second, we need to talk to as many people as we can, both those who marched with us and those who didn’t. How many of them would do it again? Obviously, the Greaters meant to intimidate us. I want to know how far they succeeded.”

They finished up with an agreement to meet in Betsy’s conference room in a week and share information. As everybody was leaving, Alex approached Gil. _“Tu peux rester cinq minutes?”_ he asked. _“Je veux te parler.”_

Gil nodded. Eliza and Angelica were still staying at Deb’s so he gave his girlfriend a quick kiss and stepped back into the apartment. John and Herc were still there, curious.

“You want us to leave?” John asked.

Alex sighed. “I hate to say it, but yeah. It’s for your own good.”

“Fine,” John said, waving him off. “Herc and I are going to Scoopy’s to get ice cream. I’m not bringing any back for you.”

“Fuck you,” Alex told him calmly.

John leaned back into the doorway and batted his eyelashes. “Any time, _mi amor_.”  Alex heard them laughing as they went down the stairs.

Alex looked up at Gil. “Was it you?”

“Was what me?” Gil asked, his face blank.

“Don’t get cute.”

Gil smiled but stayed silent.

Alex tried another tack. “If I check the guns at Betsy’s, will they all be there?”

“I’m very sure they will.”

“Will any of them show evidence of being recently fired?”

“No.”

“No? None of them was recently fired?”

“That’s not what I said.”

Alex ran his hand over his face. “Fuck, Gil, did you take a gun out today?”

Gil stared over Alex’s head at the picture of the angel on the wall. “If I had, I would not tell you,” he said.

“Why not?”

“Because then you would know, and you would have to act on the knowledge. You would have to consult with Ben and Tony and all those other people and make rules and policies about gun use. It would be time-consuming and unnecessary.”

“So you think any of us should be able to get one of the guns and use it whenever we want?”

Gil considered for a minute, then nodded. “Yes, I think that is the simplest policy. Either we are trustworthy or we are not.”

Alex chewed on his lip. He could see Gil’s point, but he knew the rest of the Movement wouldn’t agree with him. After a few minutes, he threw up his hands. “Okay. I know nothing – nothing except that I’m sure to regret this.”

“I don’t think so,” Gil said.

Alex smiled. “You’re damned good. Hell of a shot, twice no less.”

Gil allowed himself to look a little cocky. “Yes. I understand that snipers have very good hand-eye coordination, like surgeons.”

“So a good sniper might, under other circumstances, make a good surgeon?”

Gil shrugged. “A time to kill and a time to heal.”

Alex’s eyes widened. “You quoting the Bible? I thought you were an atheist.”

“I am, but they made me study the Bible when I was a child.” His eyes went back to the angel picture. “Sometimes there is good advice in the Bible, even for an atheist.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timothy Dwight was a Continental Army chaplain. He was from Connecticut, but I've moved him to New York for this story. He also attended Yale and may know some other Yalies.  
> "Ain't Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me Around" is an authentic and great old Civil Rights song. You can find it on YouTube.  
> Mad Anthony Wayne was struck by a musket ball in the thigh at some point in his military career. I didn't have the time to track down exactly when it happened, but he mentions it in a letter in 1780, so I arbitrarily had him shot today. Sorry, Tony.  
> Gil's Bible quote is Ecclesiastes 3:3, just in case you want to know.  
> The Movement is taking steps to become a true resistance force. There will be more violence.  
> Thank you for kudos on this and for reading some of my other stuff as well, and thank you especially for the comments. They seriously keep me motivated. The more you guys comment, the more I write. <3 <3 <3 to all.


	27. Let’s Steal Their Cannons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben and Nat move to New York and get on John's nerves. A new Amendment revokes Alex's citizenship, and Alex reveals some information to John. Another march takes place, but Alex, John, Herc, and Gil have a mission of their own that doesn't go quite as planned.

A few days after what they were calling the Times Square Riot, General Akhdir contacted his subordinates through coded means and made some temporary organizational changes. For the summer, the Movement would be concentrating on six major cities: Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Norfolk, and Charleston. Ethan would be moving to Boston and working with Abbie Smith. Prudence Cummings was going to Baltimore, where she had family connections who would help. Lydia Darragh would be with Tony in Philadelphia. TJ was in charge of Norfolk, and Frank stayed in Charleston.

The General had decided that New Haven wasn’t a large enough metropolitan center to bring the Movement the kind of attention they needed, so Ben and Nat were assigned to New York until September. The General wanted Ben to work closely with John and Alex on IDs and backstories. Nat would be involved with communication and codes. With a little help from Herc, Ben and Nat found a small apartment north of the campus, but still within walking distance of John and Alex’s.

John got the required photos and personal information and got to work. Abbie had been busy in Boston, and had quite a large group working there. It was helpful that her boyfriend also went to Harvard, and he was as eager to get rid of King as she was.

Nat was peering over John’s shoulder as he worked on the IDs. “You’re telling me _that’s_ Abbie Smith’s boyfriend?” he snickered. “Hey, Ben, come look at this.”

“Go away,” John told him.

“No, seriously, Ben has to see this.”

John rolled his eyes, shoved back his chair, and yelled for Alex. Alex and Ben got there at the same time.

“What’s up?” Alex asked.

“Nat’s annoying me,” John explained.

“Ben, take a look at that guy,” Nat said, pointing to the picture on John’s work table.

Ben frowned. “Yeah, what about him?”

“That’s Abbie Smith’s boyfriend.”

Alex leaned over next to Ben. “Are you shitting me?”

John dropped his face into his hand. “Get out of my studio!” he yelled.

Alex tried to stop laughing. “Come on, guys, we should let John work on these, and I have to get all the backstories done.” He took one last look at the picture and shook his head. “Seriously, though, what is a girl like Abbie doing with that ugly dude?”

John complained to Angelica later that day at Scoopy Doo’s. Everybody else was at Betsy’s but John had persuaded Angelica to go with him to get ice cream because it was hot out.

“Listen, it’s not that I don’t like Nat and Ben,” he said. “I do, they’re great guys, but if we’re taking this seriously, I can’t have them just hanging around with nothing to do.”

Angelica nodded. “Ben’s been working with Alex on backstories, and I think he’s been helpful, but you’re right, Nat doesn’t have enough to do. They’ve finished the codes and we’re kind of between things. It’s too bad Patty’s working most days, because she could keep him busy.”

John laughed. “I’m sure he’d enjoy that kind of distraction, but actually, that gives me an idea. Once the ID’s are done, somebody has to act as courier. We can’t put half a dozen fake IDs in an envelope and send them through the Post Office. We’re going to use Betsy’s van, and the cover story is that whoever goes is on a buying trip for artisanal ingredients. In Boston, they’re going to get a variety of maple sugar and maple syrup samples. I think we should send Patty and Nat. Patty knows the business end of it, but I don’t think anybody should ever travel alone on Movement business.”

Angelica licked her chocolate ice cream cone thoughtfully. “Do you think they should go together? I mean, they’re a couple, so aren’t they likely to be distracted from their job by one another?”

“You mean they might be so caught up in each other they wouldn’t see danger signs if something was going wrong?”

“Maybe. On the other hand, maybe they’d be hyper-alert because they’d be concerned for one another’s safety. We need to run it by Alex.”

“And Ben. I’m not sure who’s in charge now, and I don’t like that.”

Angelica grimaced. “Neither do they.”

*          *          *          *          *

Early in July, thirty-nine state legislatures, all under the control of King’s party, ratified a new Constitutional Amendment that was, “in their lying words” (as Nat put it) intended to clarify the existing Fourteenth Amendment. Citizenship was no longer conferred by birth within the country, but now was granted only to those who were both born in the country and whose parents were both citizens. The law was retroactive to twenty-five years previously, but there was a provision that might make it possible for Alex to remain a citizen. If a non-citizen parent was deceased, a person whose other parent was a citizen could petition for citizenship.

“Fuck!” Alex yelled, picking up the nearest object, which happened to be a coffee mug, and pitching it angrily at the TV. John intercepted it before it shattered the screen and wiped up the trail of coffee without complaining, but this was a time when not even he could calm Alex down. Alex rampaged through the apartment grabbing things to throw and screaming curses, until John wrapped his arms around him and pinned his arms to his sides, holding him tightly.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. It was taking all his strength to keep Alex from breaking away. _“Calmate, mi amor._ Come on, babe, we’ll send the petition thing. It’ll be okay.”

It took a few minutes for Alex to stop struggling, and John very cautiously relaxed his hold. As he did, Alex put his arms around him and leaned on his shoulder, and John realized that he was crying. “They can’t really take it away from you,” he murmured, stroking Alex’s hair.

Alex wiped his eyes on John’s shirt and muttered something.

“What?”

“I said, we can’t send the petition.”

“Why not?”

Alex used John’s shoulder as a handkerchief again, and John yanked off his shirt in exasperation. “Here,” he said, handing it to Alex. “Blow your nose. I’ll wash it later.”

Alex made a noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh and did as he was told.

“Come on,” John coaxed, taking him by the hand. “Let’s sit down. You want some tea?”

“Ice tea?”

“Sure. With lemon and extra sugar, right?”

Alex nodded, and John left him on the couch while he made glasses of ice tea. Alex found a box of tissues and blew his nose a couple more times, chewing on his lip, until John brought in the ice tea and a plate of cookies.

“Cookies between meals?” Alex asked, looking like a little kid. “Don’t tell Angelica.”

John smiled at him indulgently. “Because you’re having a bad day, but that doesn’t mean you can create drama just to get cookies.”

Alex took a bite of cookie and chewed it thoughtfully, then sipped some ice tea. “I have to tell you some stuff,” he said.

“Okay.” John waited while Alex finished his cookie.

“You know how I tell everybody my father was from Scotland, right?” Alex began, not making eye contact.

“Yeah.”

“His name was James Hamilton. He and my mom never got married.”

“Right. I know all that.”

“He left when I was ten. He didn’t stay in touch.” Alex was doing his best to keep his tone flippant, but John could hear the sadness underneath. “So when my mom died two years later, there was nobody to take care of me, and even the worst of the foster care people didn’t think twelve was old enough to be on my own.”

“You were in foster care?”

“Yeah, for a while. I was lucky, though, really, because the parents of one of my friends applied to be foster parents, and I got to stay with them, at least for a while. Mr. and Mrs. Stevens were really nice. The thing was, though, if you’re in foster care, they try to find somebody to pay child support, and they found my father in Scotland.”

This was new information to John. “I didn’t know that,” he said, watching Alex’s face.

“Yeah, well, it didn’t turn out the way I hoped. I guess I thought for some reason that my father might want to see me.”

“And he didn’t?”

Alex laughed bitterly. “Not only that, but he announced that he wasn’t even my father, that my mother had been such a whore that there was no telling whose kid I might be.”

_“Jesus!”_

“They made him get a paternity test.” Alex drank some ice tea and was quiet for a few minutes. “Turns out he was at least partly right. He’s not my biological father.”

“Oh, shit.” John put his arm around Alex’s shoulders and pulled him in close. “I’m sorry, babe.”

“It’s not like I really loved him or anything,” Alex continued. “I remember him and my mom screaming and cursing at each other all the time. I never saw him hit her, but I think he did. She denied it, but she would, you know, not to worry me.” He pushed himself closer to John, putting his hand on John’s shirtless chest. John’s arm tightened around him. “Anyway, by then, they had found my cousin, and he said he’d take me. I wanted to stay with the Stevenses, but the foster care people said it would be better if I was with family, so they sent me to my cousin Pete here in New York. You know how that turned out.”

“How old were you when Pete overdosed?” John asked softly.

“Sixteen. About two years ago.”

“So where did you stay then? Did you go back into foster care?”

Alex shook his head. “Not really. I was in my last year of high school, and I just kind of dodged the system. By then I knew I’d probably get a scholarship for college, so I just had to get through my senior year. I spent a few weeks with one friend, a few with another, and I kept missing appointments with my case worker. I’m pretty sure she knew what was going on, but I don’t think she cared very much. Then in the summer, I got a job washing pans in a bakery, and they let me sleep in the storeroom, at least until the boss found out.”

“And when he found out?”

“Train station. There are worse places.”

“And then you came to Columbia.”

“Yeah. Now I’m living in luxury with my rich boyfriend.”

“Shut up.” John sat silently, thinking for a few minutes. “What were you planning to do this summer?”

“Probably would have gone back to the bakery job if I could.”

Even at the worst moments of his life, John had never had to worry about having a roof over his head. He put his hand on Alex’s cheek and turned his face gently so he could kiss him. “I love you,” he said, “and you’re never going to have to sleep in a train station again.”

“Okay,” Alex agreed, trailing his fingers across John’s chest. “I like it better here anyway.”

John laughed and kissed him again, then pulled back, his face serious. “I understand why you can’t petition for citizenship now.”

“Yeah, the guy who’s listed as my father on my birth certificate isn’t my father and has the lab report to prove it, and my actual father may or may not be a citizen and may or may not be alive, and I have no idea who he is. Makes it all a little complicated.” He was trying to keep his tone light, but only partly succeeding.

“Okay, but for now, you’ve got ID that says you’re a citizen.”

Alex nodded. “Not in my real name, though.”

“I’ll work on that,” John told him.

A few hours later, while Alex and Angelica were planning the next protest march, he met Ben at Betsy’s and asked him for help.

*          *          *          *          *

Not surprisingly, there was widespread criticism of the new Amendment. King’s government stepped in with soothing messages about protecting the country from “criminal elements from outside our borders.” While that theme played well in much of the country, in cities like New York, Boston, and Philadelphia where there were large immigrant populations, thousands of people had just had their citizenship revoked, and their anger remained. Despite the violence that the last march had culminated in, Alex and Angelica were having no problem getting volunteers to demonstrate. Alex called Tim, and found that he too was getting a group together, so they decided to consolidate their efforts.

“We need to talk to Gil,” Alex said to Angelica.

“Why?”

“We just do.” Alex hadn’t told anybody about what role Gil had played in the Times Square Riot, and he preferred to keep the information to himself. He was pretty sure both Angelica and Ben would object to it on principle and would try to forbid Gil from doing it again. He was also positive that Gil would not take orders from either of them. He would accept Alex’s authority, but Alex was not convinced that Gil had been wrong. He didn’t like keeping information from Ben or Angelica, but for now, he was trusting his instincts.

Gil arrived shortly after he received Alex’s text, and then John brought Ben back to the apartment, and the five of them sat with a map spread out on the table, working on a serious plan for the next protest.

“We’ve got to be really careful not to march into any place than can be cut off,” John said. “I don’t ever want to see people trapped again like they were last time.”

“Good point,” Angelica agreed. “Where, then?”

Gil pointed. “Here.”

“Riverside Drive?” Alex frowned. “Shit, that will really fuck up traffic.”

“There’s no point in a protest that doesn’t inconvenience anybody,” Ben reminded him.

“Riverside Drive is bordered by a park on the west,” Gil said. “If the Greaters try to close in, we go into the park.”

Alex nodded slowly. “We’ll be on foot, and they’ll have cars. They can’t drive into the park from Riverside.”

“Why not?” Ben asked. He hadn’t been in New York long enough to know the area well.

“The park is on a pretty steep hill,” Alex explained. “I guess that’s why it’s a park, actually. The ground is too steep to build on. It’s got lots of pretty stone walls and paths, and it’s heavily wooded. Now that I think about it, if people scattered through the park, they could go either north or south, or go through the park to the Henry Hudson Parkway, where they could get picked up in a car.” He leaned back and nodded. “Yeah, that’s good. Next Saturday?”

“Nat and Patty are taking the new IDs up to Boston next Saturday,” Ben reminded him.

Alex considered. “I don’t really want to delay it,” he said. “We need to get things going now, while everybody’s still angry.”

Angelica nodded in agreement. “We’ll be okay two people short. Anyway, there will be a march in Boston, too, won’t there? They can join in that one.”

“Yeah, good point,” Ben said. “They’ll probably be thrilled to stay away an extra day or two.”

“They staying with Abbie and her ugly boyfriend?” Alex asked.

Ben raised his eyebrows. “Do I look like their travel agent?”

“Huh,” Angelica said to nobody in particular, her eyes fixed on a lamp across the room. “So that’s how it works if a group’s leader doesn’t think he needs to manage every single detail.”

There were a few seconds of silence, and they all looked at Alex. He laughed and waved his hands in the air. “Okay, okay, I get it, but let me tell you about the check-in system I worked out this time.”

Gil was staring thoughtfully at the map. “I have an idea,” he said, pointing to a spot a little way north of where the march would start.

*          *          *          *          *

Alex had again applied for a permit as required by law and had again been refused. Last time they had created sufficient confusion with the Joanna-and-Orlando fiction, so they went with the same plan, this time using the names Karen and Richard.

“Last time, none of the Greaters knew we’d actually been denied a permit,” Alex said as they gathered near the north end of Riverside Park. “Maybe their communication has gotten better, maybe not, but it’s worth a try. If they know, some of us will probably be arrested, but we outnumber them by a factor of hundreds, so they can’t arrest all of us.”

“They can’t even shoot all of us,” John commented flippantly.

“Shut up, John,” Angelica snapped, seeing her sister’s face go pale. “Not funny.”

“Let’s get started,” Gil said. “I’ve only got two hours before I have to report for my shift at the hospital, and I want to make the most of it.”

“Is your internship going well?” Eliza asked, happy to talk about anything other than shooting.

Gil shrugged. “I suppose yes. I’m getting very good at filling out insurance forms.”

“He can’t understand why they won’t let him operate on any of the patients,” Deb said, looking sideways at Gil.

“That is not fair,” Gil objected. “I do not expect to perform surgery, of course, but I would like to do something other than paperwork.”

“How many more years before you’re actually a doctor?” Alex asked.

“Well, six,” Gil admitted, and then grinned. “Maybe I understand why they are not letting me practice medicine.”

By nine o’clock, the time set for the march to begin, Riverside Drive was blocked by the crowd, and more people were still arriving. Signs and banners were printed with “Citizenship is Irrevocable,” “We Belong Here” and various other slogans showing opposition to the new Amendment. They started marching south, and Alex reminded them of his check-in system. “Everybody text me, Ben, or Angelica every hour on the hour, starting at ten, okay? You know who you’re supposed to text, right?”

“Right, Dad, we got it!” Herc responded, rolling his eyes.

Alex almost managed to keep his mouth shut, but muttered under his breath to Angelica, “I just want to be sure we know where everybody is.”

“We know,” she assured him.

“We’re bound to get separated like last time, and …”

“For the love of God, Alex, shut up,” Ben said.

This march looked like it was going to be even bigger than the last one, and within the first ten minutes, police cars were pulling up and officers were accosting random people. They started by asking for the permit, clearly indicating that they weren’t aware none had been granted. Alex was both surprised and delighted that the Greaters were so bad at communication. He volunteered the information that Karen had the permit, giving a helpfully detailed description that fit no one. Meanwhile, several blocks farther on, Reverend Tim Dwight told a senior officer that Richard had the permit. He couldn’t remember Richard’s last name, since he’d only met him once, but thought it might be Johnson or Jackson. With other marchers embellishing the descriptions and stating they’d just seen Karen or Richard in various places, they had the Greaters chasing any number of false trails. 

Alex had been right that they would be separated from one another as the march continued, but only Ben and Angelica knew that it was planned. They kept up the pace and didn’t seem to notice when Alex fell behind.   Gil said good-bye to Deb to go get ready for his hospital shift, and it was a while before Johan, Eliza, and Joe realized they hadn’t seen John or Herc for the last few blocks. “No problem,” Ben said when Eliza asked about them. “Everybody’s checking in.”

Four blocks north of where Eliza was talking to Ben, John pulled his car to the curb right behind Gil’s. It was a no-parking zone, but, as John pointed out, that was the least illegal thing they were planning to do. Alex and Gil went in first, playing the roles of confused French tourists. They talked very fast, and used lots of gestures, asking for directions to obscure locations in Manhattan. There were only two Greaters at the front desk, one near retirement age, the other quite young, and neither of them understood a word of French. Alex and Gil responded to their lack of comprehension by speaking louder and faster.

“I’ll get the sergeant,” the older officer said and disappeared through a door. He came back with an irritated senior officer, who just kept telling Alex and Gil to speak English. His request was met with puzzled looks, lots of hand waving, and more rapid French. Eventually, another officer came out of the back room, this one a young woman, but she was no help either. Alex and Gil understood from the Greaters’ conversation among themselves that there were no other officers in the building, the rest of them having been dispatched to oversee the protest march. As soon as that fact was clear, Alex pulled his phone out of his pocket, with a lengthy explanation in French that he was calling his sister,

As soon as John’s phone rang, he grinned at Herc. “It’s a go!”

They dashed in the door that Alex and Gil had entered a few minutes earlier, and John and Herc put on an excellent performance.

“They’re shooting!” John yelled. “They have guns!”

“Who? What are you talking about?” asked the oldest Greater.

Alex and Gil added to the confusion by repeatedly demanding what was going on in French.

“Those crazy protesters,” Herc said. “I saw a cop go down!”

“Just off 110th,” John added.

“Nobody called in,” the sergeant responded, but he glanced uneasily at the older cop.

“I think your guys are too busy defending themselves to make a call,” John told him, concern clear on his face. “I heard two of them got hurt bad last time.”

“We should go,” the young female officer said.

The older Greater looked at the sergeant and nodded. “Casey’s right. They need our help.”

The sergeant nodded. “Okay, Davis, you stay here, keep an eye on things.”

“What do I do with the French guys?”

“I don’t care. They’ll get tired of talking pretty soon. Anything major happens, you buzz me. I hope we won’t be long.” He turned to John. “Where did you say?”

“Near 110th and Riverside Drive,” John told him.

“Thanks,” the cop said. “We always appreciate citizens helping us out.”

“Don’t mention it,” John replied sincerely. “Good luck, sir.”

The three officers departed via the back, leaving young Davis in the front area with Alex and Gil still carrying on a conversation in rapid French, and John and Herc talking in hushed tones about the frightening mayhem that might be occurring a few blocks south. They heard the sound of the siren and Herc looked out the door to see the Greaters heading south. He nodded, and then John pulled out his Glock and pointed it at Davis’s head. “Don’t move,” he said calmly.

Davis didn’t move. Herc stepped behind him and efficiently disarmed him, then used his own handcuffs to attach him to a pipe running up the wall.

“Where’s your weapons locker?” John asked, his gun still pointed at Davis’s forehead.

Davis, pale and sweating, mumbled something incoherent.

John sighed and moved in close. “Listen, dude, hard or easy, I don’t care. I’d really rather not shoot you, but you need to tell where the weapons locker is, and where the keys are. If not, I’ll shoot, and it will be really messy, because I’ll start with your knees, like those guys last week. And then you’ll tell me for sure, but we don’t have to do it that way.” He shrugged, and Davis swallowed convulsively. “We’re in a hurry,” John added.

“Through that door,” Davis mumbled, “on the left. Key’s in the top desk drawer, right there.” He waved his free hand at a desk. Herc opened the drawer and held up the key.

They moved fast. Ammunition was their priority, and luckily there was plenty of it. There were only a few guns, but they took them too, loading them in canvas bags that Alex and Gil had folded tightly under their shirts. It took them less than fifteen minutes to clean out the weapons cache. They were loading the last bag into John’s car, which happened to have New Jersey tags on it, when the other three Greaters returned in their marked vehicle. It took them a minute to realize what was going on, and then they opened fire. Herc, John, and Alex fired back at them, while Gil took out three of their tires and the windshield.

The older cop was visibly bleeding, and the woman had stopped firing, but the sergeant fired twice more, and John yelled, “Fuck!” and clutched his hip.

Gil shot the sergeant’s gun out of his hand and assessed the situation. “Alex, take John’s car,” he shouted. “Herc, come with me.”

Nobody argued, not even Alex, who jumped behind the steering wheel of the Acura and took off. Herc helped John into the back of the Audi, and Gil pulled away from the curb as soon as the door was closed. “Take John’s shirt off and fold it up,” he instructed Herc. “Press it against the wound.”

Herc did as he was told, and John just kept swearing as Gil maneuvered the car through traffic to the trauma center where he was interning. He parked in the employees’ parking lot and turned around. “I’ll go in first,” he said. “It’s just about time for my shift, so no one will notice. Herc, keep the pressure on for another five minutes or so, and then come in. You both have IDs, right?”

“Yeah,” Herc nodded, knowing he meant the fake IDs that John had made. He was Simon Wilson, and John was Sean Burns.

“Fucking Greaters,” John muttered. “Goddam mother-fucking …”

“You’ll be okay, John,” Gil added. “Here’s your cover story: you were on a ladder cleaning out gutters, and you fell, catching your hip on a corner of the shed.”

“They going to believe that?” Herc asked.

Gil shrugged. “I’ll be doing the paperwork.” He sketched a quick wave and got out of the car.

A few minutes later, Herc and John entered the hospital waiting room, Herc supporting John, who was limping badly, and whose jeans were red with blood all the way down his left side. Herc carried John’s blood-soaked shirt, and they were met by a solicitous intern, his mop of curly hair pulled back neatly and a pencil behind his ear.

“What you got?” a busy nurse called to Gil.

“Laceration of some sort,” Gil said. “I’ll do intake. Please have a seat,” he added to Herc and John.

John half-leaned, half-sat on the chair, and responded to Gil’s questions with the rehearsed story. Gil wrote everything down, and then showed them into a cubicle. He handed John a hospital gown with yellow ducks on it.

“Seriously?” John asked, choking back a painful laugh. He knew by now that Gil was right, and that his injury wasn’t life-threatening, but it still hurt like hell.

“The bullet grazed you,” Gil said, keeping his voice low. “A lot of blood, but no in-and-out bullet hole.” He held out his hand. “Give me your jeans.”

John handed over his bloody jeans, and then, at Gil’s request, his boxers. Gil took a pair of scissors and cut the small bullet hole bigger, then yanked the fabric apart, ripping both the jeans and the boxers into a long, narrow slash. He took John’s shirt, still wet with blood, and rubbed it along the cuts, doing what he could to fray the material. He looked at his handiwork critically. “It wouldn’t fool a forensics expert, but I don’t think they’re going to be examining it very carefully.”

Dr. Harper came into the cubicle then, a young, overworked resident with shaggy blond hair and glasses. He read the chart and looked at John speculatively. “Fell off a ladder?”

“Yeah,” John said, doing his best to look embarrassed.

“Drinking?”

“Fuck, no, it’s not even lunchtime,” John told him, and then remembered that he was playing a role. He shrugged. “Just lost my footing when I tried to reach for the scraper.”

“All right, let me take a look.”

John rolled to his side and Dr. Harper poked around for a couple of minutes, then wrote some more on the chart. “It’s going to be painful for a few days,” he said, “but you probably already knew that. I’m going to have the nurse clean it up and bandage it, and I’ll give you instructions on how to do that at home. You got somebody who can help you change the dressing, that sort of thing?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’m going to give you a prescription for an antibiotic to prevent infection. Take it as ordered, and take all of them. I don’t want you back in here with septicemia. I’ll also write a prescription for five days of pain med, but if you can manage with ibuprofen after a couple of days, that would be better.”

John gave a twisted smile. “I’m pretty good at dealing with pain.” It was the truest thing he’d said all day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So do you all know who Abbie Smith's ugly boyfriend is?  
> What did John talk to Ben about?  
> Three Greaters were shot this time, and weapons and ammunition were stolen. How will they crack down on the citizens?  
> There's been a lot of violence lately, so I think we need to spend some time with Nat and Patty and enjoy their love story in the next chapter. At least, that's the plan, but if Gil decides to shoot somebody again ...  
> Thanks so much for the kudos and the comments. I always enjoy hearing from you, and I really am interested in what you think of the story. Love to you all.


	28. And What About Boston?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patty and Nat meet the Boston squad and get to spend some time together. John gets some surprising insight into Gil's character. Rob gets some surprising insight into John's character. Gil and Deb have a disagreement. Nat is glad that he took Ben's advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I'm sorry it has taken me forever to get this chapter up. Second, please be patient with the chronology, because Nat and Patty drive to Boston on Friday, but Chapter 27, when the guys carried out the raid on the police station, was on Saturday. It's always hard to have different things going on in different places simultaneously, and getting Nat and Patty's scenes in before the march in New York just didn't work. I think it's now Saturday evening in both New York and Boston, so we're okay, but if it's not clear, the fault is mine.

“Mom gave me the ‘Talk’ last night,” Patty said, not looking directly at Nat.

He smiled at her. “She okay with everything?”

“Yeah, she just reminded me of all the stuff, you know – be smart, be responsible. I told her we were.”

Nat reached over and squeezed her hand. “I like your mom.”

Patty nodded. “She’s pretty easy to talk to. A lot of my friends really can’t talk to their parents about things.”

They were in Betsy’s white van with the bright yellow logo on the side, headed to Boston on the interstate. All the ID’s were in the hidden compartments that Crazy Tony had built into the van, and the key was what looked like a decorative charm on Patty’s necklace. They had a legitimate appointment at a farmer’s market for Saturday afternoon, where they were going to buy some local maple sugar with Betsy’s credit card. Neither of them felt that there was anything to worry about as long as they exercised common sense, so it seemed like a vacation. It was the first time they’d been away together.

They were almost out of Connecticut now, about two hours from Boston.  Nat was driving and Patty was looking at the scenery. “Lots of trees,” she noted.

“There are towns, too,” Nat said, “just not right on the interstate.”

She nodded. “It’s very agricultural here.”

“You’re such a New Yorker.”

“Yep. Too much greenery makes me nervous.”

Nat teased her about it until they got close enough to Boston that the green fields disappeared.  It was more urban, but Boston had a lower skyline and not nearly as many skyscrapers. Abbie and her boyfriend lived in in an apartment on the second floor of a converted Victorian house a few blocks off the Harvard campus. _We’re ordering pizza,_ Abbie had texted. _Any preferences?_

“Tell her no anchovies,” Nat said.

“Nobody eats anchovies,” Patty told him, but sent Abbie the text anyway.

They parked on the street as directed and went up the outside stairs to the apartment. Abbie met them at the door, and then they were introduced to a room full of people immediately. Abbie’s boyfriend John Adams was short and husky – well, pudgy, really, Patty thought, and he had a receding chin. She knew Ben and Alex had made fun of his picture, and she didn’t approve of that, but he wasn’t attractive. More than that, though, he didn’t even smile, and seemed to be irritated about something while Abbie was trying to introduce him. His cousin Sam was also part of the group, along with a guy named Paul, and Ethan Allen, whom Nat already knew from the internship program. The other two girls were easy to tell apart because Sybil was a redhead and Sarah was a brunette.

“Hi,” Sybil said with a friendly smile. “You’re going to be staying at my house while you’re here. I hope that’s okay?”

“Sure,” Patty told her. “Abbie said there would be a place for us to stay, but we weren’t sure where it was going to be.”

“I live with my parents,” Sybil went on, “but it’s fine, really. They’re very much in favor of the Movement. My dad was at West Point with General Akhdir, and he says there’s nobody he’d trust more.”

“Wow, that’s great. My mom worries about me being involved.”

Sybil nodded. “A lot of people have to deal with that. Some of the parents don’t even know.”

“I haven’t been totally honest with my mom and dad,” Nat admitted. “They know I’m protesting government policies, but they don’t realize the extent of what the Movement plans to do.”

“You’re from Connecticut, right?” Sybil asked Nat. “We lived there for a while when I was twelve and thirteen. We’ve moved around a lot, because my dad was in the Army until two years ago when he retired.”

“I’m still in the state I was born in,” Nat told her. “Well, except I’m spending this summer in New York.”

Sybil looked at Patty. “Are you from Connecticut too?”

“No, native New Yorker.”

“She doesn’t like trees,” Nat confided.

“Not true,” Patty said, laughing, “but I’m definitely a city girl.”

Sybil laughed too. “I’ve lived so many places I don’t know what I am.”

A new guy came up behind her just in time to hear the last sentence. “I know what you are,” he said. “You’re cute.”

“Hello, Eddie,” Sybil said over her shoulder. “Be nice to these people. They drove all the way up from New York.”

“Eddie Ogden,” the guy said, holding out his hand. “I’m Sybil’s boyfriend.”

Sybil raised her eyebrow. “Usually. Unless you annoy me.”

Eddie shrugged. “True, but I’m not annoying you now, am I?”

“Not yet.”

“What’s John pissed off about?” Eddie asked.

“Oh, who knows? It’s always something. I don’t know how Abbie puts up with it.”

“He did seem a little irritated,” Patty said tentatively.

“Irritated is his default state,” Eddie explained.

Nat snickered. “I thought maybe he didn’t want us here for some reason.”

“Oh, he doesn’t. He doesn’t want any of us here, except Abbie and maybe his cousin Sam, but he puts up with us because he actually does support the Movement.”

“Maybe he’s unhappy because the political situation is so bad,” Patty suggested charitably.

“I’d like to believe that,” Sybil said, “but I’ve known him for two years, and he’s always had the same personality. He’s smart, and sometimes he has really good ideas, but he’s no fun, ever. I don’t get that. You guys have fun, right, even though you’re in the Movement, and the government’s a mess? I mean, we don’t all have to be miserable all the time.”

Eddie threw his arm around her and gave her a quick kiss. “Absolutely. I am not going to let President King and his asshole government ruin my life.”

Patty smiled up at Nat. “What is it Gil says? You take love where you find it.”

Sybil nodded, smiling. “Yeah. Even in the middle of all this, if you’re lucky enough to love somebody who loves you back, you should realize how lucky you are.”

“I’m glad we’re staying at your house instead of here,” Patty said.

“Me too. Are you going to be participating in the march tomorrow?”

“At least in the morning,” Nat said. “In the afternoon, we have to go buy maple sugar.”

“Your cover story is a bakery or something, right?”

“A coffee shop, but yeah, we buy local ingredients so we get to travel,” Patty explained. “That’s legit, by the way.  I really do work at Betsy’s and whatever we buy on these trips, she uses. It’s all in the records in case anybody ever checks.”

Eddie looked at Sybil thoughtfully. “We need something like that, a local business that could work as a cover.”

“What about Paul?”

“Who’s Paul?” Nat asked.

Sybil waved at a dark-haired guy across the room. “Paul Revere. He’s a jeweler,” she said. “He works for his dad, actually; it’s a family business, but I know they go to New York and Philadelphia for design shows and things like that.”

“Would his dad be okay with it?”

Sybil bit her lip. “I’m not sure. Not everybody’s as opposed to King as my parents are. At least we can talk to Abbie and Ethan about it. It would help if you explain how you make it work.”

The pizza arrived then, and they joined the others to eat. As soon as they finished, Nat went to the van to get the IDs and gave them to Abbie. Alex had also sent paper copies of the detailed backstories he had created.

“I’m Isabella Warner,” Sybil said, examining her authentic-looking driver’s license and showing it to Eddie. She skimmed the backstory. “Okay, this says my dad was in the Air Force, which would explain moving around, but not that he went to West Point.”

“So no one would make the connection between him and the General,” Ethan pointed out. “These are good. Alex did all these?”

“Ben helped,” Nat told him.

“I’m surprised Alex let him get a word in.”

Nat laughed. “There were some discussions about that.” He was sitting next to Patty, his arm casually around her shoulders. She smiled at him, recalling some of Alex and Ben’s discussions.

“Alex is the one who never shuts up, right?” John asked. His voice was sharp, and he wasn’t smiling.

“Alex does talk a lot,” Nat responded, “but he’s very good at it. He’s brilliant, really.”

“Tom Jefferson says he’s a show-off.”

“Oh, you know TJ?” Nat inquired, still being courteous.

John nodded, but left it at that. “I don’t particularly like the name Kevin Thompson.”

“Oh, give it a rest, John,” his cousin Sam told him. “You’ll probably never even use it.”

“Did he give you the same last name?” John asked.

“No, if you read the backstory, we’re not cousins, but we’re childhood friends who grew up in the same neighborhood. It’s good, very plausible. My name’s Eric Hunter.”

“You know, when Alex went to Louisiana with John Laurens and Gil Motier,” Nat said, keeping his voice civil, “they used IDs like this that John had made to buy guns, and never even got questioned. There may well come a time when you’re grateful to have them.”

John didn’t respond in any way, didn’t even make eye contact. Patty felt Nat’s arm tense, and she addressed Abbie hastily. “Alex said that if there’s a problem with any of the backstories to let him know. He worked with the information you sent, of course, but he doesn’t actually know you guys, so it’s harder than doing the stories for us.”

“I think they’re all okay, really,” Abbie said. She looked around the room. “Anybody see any problem with any of the backstories you got?”

“Mine’s good,” Paul said. “Peter Sinclair, geology major. The name works and the geology would explain my interest in metals and minerals. No problem with this.”

“Listen, Paul,” Sybil broke in, “I wanted to see if you could talk to Nat and Patty about using a business as a cover.” She turned to Abbie. “They’re on an actual buying trip, so if anyone questions them, they have all the paperwork and appointments to justify their being in Boston.”

“Are you using your own names and IDs?” Abbie asked.

“For this, yeah,” Nat told her. “There’s no reason to complicate things by being undercover when we don’t have to be. We’re just stopping here to visit you. I know you because we worked together in the Capital a while back. We have appointments tomorrow afternoon to buy locally produced maple sugar.”

“Which Betsy will use to make scones,” Patty added, “so there’s no reason to be suspicious of us.”

“Paul, I know you travel to gem shows,” Abbie said thoughtfully. “Could those trips be used as cover?”

Paul looked uncomfortable. “Maybe, but I don’t know where my dad would stand on that. I mean, I could do it without telling him, but the business is in his name, so he would be involved.”

Abbie nodded. “I understand.”

“Would it help if somebody else talked to him?” Sam asked. He seemed to be far more agreeable than his cousin.

“I don’t know,” Paul said. “Let me think about it, maybe ask him a few questions. I’ll let you know.”

“Okay,” Abbie agreed. “Don’t forget we’re meeting tomorrow morning at nine to start the march at the northwest corner of the common. That’s the intersection of Charles Street and Beacon Street,” she added for Nat and Patty’s benefit. “Parking is always a problem, so good luck.”

“I’ve parked in New York,” Nat reminded her. “I’ll manage.”

“We should get going,” Sybil said. “You have the address, right?”

Nat showed her his phone screen, and there was a polite round of goodbyes, in which John Adams participated only grudgingly.

“That guy’s a real jackass,” Nat said, once he and Patty were in the van and heading north.

“Oh, my God, I don’t know how they put up with him,” Patty agreed. “Especially Abbie. She seems really nice.”

“She is. I have no idea what the attraction is, but I’m not good at the psychological stuff. I just know it was a relief to get out of there.”

“I know, right? You can feel the tension in that group.”

Nat took his eyes off the road long enough to smile at her. “Maybe we can relax now.”

“I hope so,” she said, smiling back.

I took them about half an hour to get to the Ludingtons’ home, a square brick house with a big maple tree in front. Nat pulled the van into the driveway as directed and knocked on the door.

Sybil had gotten home ahead of them and introduced her parents. She had obviously inherited her red hair from her mother, who welcomed them warmly.

“Please, we’re Gail and Hank,” she said. “Are you exhausted from driving up from New York and then having to listen to politics all evening?”

“Not really,” Nat replied. “I mean, we’re used to politics.”

“Thank God you young people are mobilizing like this,” Hank Ludington said. “You’re the ones who will make a difference.”

“Did Abbie feed everybody pizza again?” Gail asked her daughter.

“Mom, you know the answer to that.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Gail said, “I like Abbie a lot. She and Sybil have been friends since high school. But what she sees in that gloomy Adams boy is beyond me.”

Patty laughed. “It’s not just us, then.”

“You know he’s the one who wants pizza five nights a week, and Abbie just goes along with it. She used to have more backbone. I can’t see Sybil at Eddie’s beck and call like that.”

“And you never will,” her daughter agreed.

“Anyway,” Gail went on, “would you like something else to eat? Or drink? I made some lemonade, and there are oatmeal cookies.”

“Mom is convinced that if she doesn’t feed everybody who comes through the door, they’ll starve,” Sybil confided.

“Don’t try to talk her out of it,” Nat said. “Oatmeal cookies sound good.”

The cookies were very good, and they sat around the kitchen table nibbling them and drinking lemonade. Sybil’s parents asked interested questions about the Movement in New York and about the members there. They were easy to talk to, and an hour passed quickly.

“We have to get up to be at the common by nine,” Sybil reminded them.

“Right,” her mother nodded. “Will you be back here tomorrow?”

Patty shook her head. “We have to go buy maple sugar in the afternoon, and then we’ll drive straight back to New York, probably get there around eight or nine.”

“Well, then, I’ll see you in the morning before you go to the march.” She hesitated for a minute, then went on. “I don’t know you well yet, so this is a little awkward. I figured you would stay in the guest room, but there’s just one queen bed. If you’re not okay with that, Patty can sleep in the other twin bed in Sybil’s room and Nat can have the guest room.”

Patty turned red, but smiled. “We’re good with the guest room.”

“That’s what I thought,” Gail said with a bright smile. “Everybody can be comfortable.”

Sybil rolled her eyes, but gave her mother an affectionate hug. “My mom doesn’t see any point in pretense.”

“Well, honestly,” Gail went on, “back in my day, there was all that sneaking around. It’s just so silly.”

They were all laughing by now, and Sybil escorted Nat and Patty up the stairs.

“If we’d stayed in the kitchen another five minutes,” she said when they reached the upstairs hall, “she would have been reminding you to use a condom.”

“I love your mom,” Patty told her, giggling. “I mean, my mom is cool, and I can talk to her, but she’d never be that open with my friends.”

“I feel right at home now,” Nat declared. “A little stunned, maybe, but I’m good.”

“My dad always says my mom is like a hurricane,” Sybil said. “If you don’t want to get caught in the storm, you have to get out of her way.” She opened a door at the end of the hall.  “Anyway, here’s your room. Bathroom is across the hall, and there are plenty of towels in the linen closet right next to it. I’ll see you at breakfast at around seven, and, as Mom would say, ‘Have a lovely night’.”

Nat closed the door behind her and held out his arms.

*          *          *          *          *

Alex called Rob as soon as he got home. “Can you come over right now? John got shot.”

Rob made it in less than fifteen minutes. “What the hell?” he asked as Alex opened the door.

“He’s okay,” Alex. “Gil says he’s okay.” Alex was pacing back and forth with an empty coffee cup in his hand.

“You want more coffee?” Rob asked, selecting the most obvious priority.

Alex stared into the cup, as if unaware that he had drunk the coffee. “Oh, yeah, okay.”

Rob got him a refill, and then followed him around while he continued to pace as he related what had happened.

“But John’s okay? You’re sure?”

“Yeah. They’re coming home in a taxi. Gil has to finish his shift so nobody there realizes he knows them.”

Rob tried to think about practicalities. “Could the Greaters have gotten the plate number for John’s car?”

“I don’t know, maybe.” Alex shrugged and chewed on his lip. “It doesn’t really matter.”

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter?”

“John steals license plates all the time and changes them out every week or so. The car’s got Jersey plates on it now.”

Rob needed a few minutes to take that in. “Okay.”

“John’s really good at all this stuff,” Alex told him admiringly.

As far as Rob knew, John Laurens was a rich trust-fund kid from South Carolina. He was beginning to suspect that John’s past was somewhat more complicated than that. “Is the car in the garage now?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Alex nodded, “and the trunk is full of guns and ammunition. I need to get most of that stuff to Betsy’s, but not until after dark.” He looked at his coffee cup, saw that it was empty again, and took it into the kitchen to refill.

“What do you need me to do?” Rob asked. It was no accident that he wasn’t participating in the march. Alex wanted Rob to keep some distance from the rest of them. He’d never been a member of SPG and wasn’t close friends with the Schuyler sisters. No one would assume he was part of the Movement, and that was the way they intended to keep it. He wasn’t eager to become close friends with Marty Middicks or Sam Seabury, but he realized he could be useful in a way that Alex couldn’t.

Alex looked a little embarrassed now, keeping his eyes on his coffee as he stirred in the fourth spoonful of sugar. “Nothing, really,” he mumbled. “I just didn’t want to be alone, and everybody else is at the march.”

Rob smiled. “No problem,” he said. “Who else knew you lunatics were going to hold up the police station?”

Alex looked up and grinned at him. “Just Ben and Angelica. Anyway, it was just a small substation. Not a big deal, really, as police stations go.”

Rob snorted. “Now you’re just showing off.”

Alex’s grin broadened. “Yeah.”

He drank two more cups of coffee before John and Herc came in, John limping and wearing a pair of Gil’s scrub pants with the bottoms rolled up, but laughing about it. “Gil ruined my jeans, but I bled all over his car, so we’re even,” he said.

“You bled in that Audi?” Rob asked. “Oh, that’s not good.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” John told him. He let Alex hold onto him, and then he pulled him over to the couch and lay down with his head in Alex’s lap. Alex petted his hair, finally starting to relax. “Gil knows some fancy-ass car detailing place and he’s going to take it there so they can get the blood out.”

“He doesn’t think they might want to know why there’s blood all over his back seat?” Alex asked.

John and Herc looked at each other and laughed. “You know Gil,” Herc said. “He’s got his story all ready.”

“So?”

Herc shook his head. “I guess we should tell you before Angelica gets here.”

“Or Deb,” John put in.

“Oh, God, yeah. Anyway, Gil is going to say that he was taking a couple of his girlfriend’s friends home after a party and one of them was, you know, on her period, and …”

Alex’s eyes widened. “No!”

“Yeah,” John said, “and you know what? It’s a good cover story. I mean, first, it could actually happen, and second, once he’s told that story, nobody’s going to ask for more details.”

Alex was trying not to laugh. “I can’t believe Gil came up with that.”

John turned a little, leaning on his uninjured side so he could look up at Alex. “Listen, you know how Gil is always so calm – I mean, you should have seen him in the ER, ripping up my jeans to fit the cover story he came up with, rubbing blood all over them, but when anybody else was around, acting like he didn’t know us. I swear, it’s like he’s two different people. Mostly we see the cool French guy, but underneath, he’s crazy. I bet he’s got bodies buried in the basement of that castle.”

“Oh, come on,” Alex said. “I’m glad he’s calm under pressure, but I don’t think he’s dangerous.” He still hadn’t told anyone else that Gil had been the sniper in Times Square. He didn’t plan to.

John shrugged. “Maybe not. I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of him, though.”

“For all you know, he’s saying the same thing about you,” Alex suggested. “Weren’t you the one threatening to shoot that cop’s kneecaps off a few hours ago?”

“Yeah, but just to make a point,” John defended himself.

Rob had been listening, looking from one of them to the other. “Jesus,” he said now. “What have I gotten myself into?”

*          *          *          *          *

It was the first time Patty and Nat had a whole night to themselves. Every other time had been in Patty’s single bed while her mother was at work. It had been okay, even good, but neither of them had much experience, so it had also been awkward. Patty wished she had the nerve to ask somebody like Deb or Angelica some honest questions, but she didn’t. Anyway, she knew she and Nat would find their way, and someday maybe they’d look back on this first summer together and laugh.

They were in bed now, kissing and touching, and they’d gotten their clothes off. Nat propped himself up on his elbow and ran his hand down her side, just skimming the edge of her breast and stopping on her hip. She shivered. “Listen,” he said, “no rush.”

“Okay.”

“We’ve never had time. Now we do. Let’s …” He let out a breath. “Ah, shit.”

“What?” she asked, alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, babe, absolutely nothing.” He kissed her. “I’m not going to lie to you.”

“I never thought you would.”

He laughed softly. “It’s more a question of not telling you everything.”

“Nat, please just say what you’re trying to say, because you’re confusing me.”

He lay back down on the pillow so that he was looking up at the ceiling. “The thing is, I talked to Ben.”

“I don’t understand.”

“About …” he waved his hand vaguely. There was just enough light in the room for her to see the movement.

“About?”

Nat spoke the next words in a rush. “You know, I’ve only ever been with one girl before, and that was a disaster, so …”

“Oh,” Patty said, the light suddenly dawning. “Oh.” She thought about it for a minute. “You talked to Ben about sex?”

“Mm,” Nat muttered. “I’m really glad you can’t see me cringing.”

“No, it’s okay.” She laughed. “Actually, I was just wishing I’d asked Deb or Angelica some questions.”

“Really?”

“Really, I swear.”

“You didn’t, though?”

“No, but I don’t know them as well as you know Ben. Did you think I’d be mad or something?”

“Not really, but it’s kind of lame to have to admit that I don’t know everything.”

“Yeah, that really shocks me. Oh, you know what? If we still have questions in the morning, we can ask Sybil’s mom at breakfast. I’m sure she’ll be glad to tell us anything we want to know, in detail.”

Nat gave a shout of laughter and then tried to muffle it in the pillow, and then they were both laughing. He wrapped his arms around her and just held her, feeling how soft and warm she was. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too. I like being in bed with you.”

He kissed her, taking his time. _No rush,_ he reminded himself. Her mouth felt good. Her lips parted, and he slipped his tongue into her mouth, wanting more. He knew that he’d always moved too fast; he’d known that even before Ben had suggested it, but he had been overwhelmed by his own need.

 _Get over yourself,_ Ben had said. _Let her set the pace._

Easier said than done, but he slowly explored her mouth with his tongue, and he felt her catch her breath. That was good. He pulled back and kissed the soft spot under her ear, and then continued down her throat. He held her breast in his hand, and slid his thumb over the nipple. She whimpered and moved toward him, arching up. He loved the sound she had just made and he wanted to hear it again. He put his mouth on her breast, and yeah, that was good. It was, he realized, harder to be slow and gentle, but feeling her response to him made it completely worth it. He sucked on her nipple and put his hand on her other breast, and she whimpered again, and then breathed out a long, “Oh.”

He kept playing with her breasts, stroking, kissing, figuring out what brought those lovely little noises from her. She was breathing harder, and then, when he accidentally scraped his teeth over her nipple, she gasped, “Oh, God, Nat …”

“Did I hurt you?” he asked her. “I’m sorry …”

“No, no.” She put her hand on the back of his head and pulled him down. “Do it again.”

He did, and it made her hips jerk, and so he did it some more, until she was murmuring, “Please, please, please.”

“Tell me what you like,” he whispered.

She took his hand and pulled it down between her legs and opened herself up to him, pressing down on his fingers. When he felt how wet she was, he was scared to death that he was going to come right then, but he held on. His fingers were dripping, and he slid them back and forth until he found the hard knot just above her entrance. He started rubbing it slowly, and her whimpers got louder. He grabbed the condom off the nightstand and rolled it on, then went back to massaging her clit. She was talking to him now, fast and breathlessly, “Oh, God, Nat, it’s so good, please do that. Please don’t stop. Do that, Nat, do it, please …”

She was so wet and slippery that he found it impossible to go slowly, but he was able to keep a thumb on her clit while he moved, and she kept telling him how good it was. Then suddenly she gasped and her hips arched up in a spasm, and he felt her body tighten around him and pull him in. He heard her wailing, and he thrust into her hard, praying that he didn’t hurt her, but it was unstoppable, like flying off a cliff into her. It was better than anything had ever been.

*          *          *          *          *

Reports of an armed attack on a police station had spread quickly, and Greater reinforcements had poured into the area along Riverside Drive. Ben, in touch with Tim and some others, made the decision to disperse, which they did, going in as many directions as possible, creating as much disruption as they could. Several of the marchers made earnest reports about disturbances a few blocks away, giving detailed, although completely fabricated, information about broken windows, slashed tires, and looting, sending the Greaters off after miscreants who didn’t exist in locations where absolutely nothing was happening. It left the police confused and frustrated and gave the Movement some satisfaction.

Eventually everybody came back to the apartment, including Gil after completing his shift. Deb was annoyed with him because he hadn’t told her about the plan to hold up the police station, but he didn’t apologize.

“There was no reason to tell you,” he said, pouring himself a glass of wine. “The only people who knew were the ones who needed to know.”

“He’s right, Deb,” Ben told her. “We have to communicate on a need-to-know basis. Orders from the General, actually.”

“You’re not really in the Army, you know,” Deb snapped.

Gil stepped between her and Ben. “You’re wrong,” he said. “We have all agreed to work with General Akhdir to overthrow the corrupt government of President King, who is a murderer. We are not acting as individuals in this. Our orders come from the General, and that makes us a military force. We call ourselves the Movement instead of the Army, but we are not pretending.”

Deb put her hand up. “Okay, fine. I’m just saying I’d like to know if somebody’s going to be shooting at you.”

Gil thought for a minute, then gave her a small smile. “I think you should assume that that could happen at any time.”

She glared at him angrily, then turned and walked away.

“Well, she’s pissed at you,” Ben said.

Gil shrugged and took a sip of wine. “I only told her the truth.”

Ben looked across the room, where Deb was having an animated conversation with Joe Allicocke. He didn’t blame Deb for being annoyed, but Gil was right on all counts. They followed the General’s orders, information was passed only on need to know, and they could all be shot at any time.

“Hey,” Alex said loudly. He had finally been able to move a few feet away from John without having an anxiety attack, and he was leaning on the kitchen counter. “We need food.”

“Can we please _not_ have pizza this time?” Angelica asked.

Alex frowned. “No pizza?”

“Something else might be a nice change,” Eliza put in, supporting her sister.

Alex looked flummoxed. “Something like …?”

“How about we get a couple of buckets of chicken, maybe some coleslaw and biscuits?” Herc suggested.

There was general agreement, and Angelica called the order in.

“Huh,” Alex said, joining Ben and Gil at the other end of the kitchen, but keeping an eye on John. “I thought everybody liked pizza.”

Ben laughed. “You taking it personally?”

“No.” Alex looked annoyed, and then he grinned. “Maybe. Stupid, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Alex turned to Gil. “John’s okay, right?”

“He will be in a couple of days, but he is probably in pain.”

“He won’t take the prescription pills,” Alex confided. “He said they gave him one in the hospital, but he doesn’t want any more.”

“Then you should leave that up to him.”

“But you just said he’s probably in pain.”

“Yes, but he seems to be dealing with it. Did he take any over-the-counter medication like Advil?”

“Yeah, about an hour ago.”

“Then leave him alone. You don’t need to manage his life, Alex.”

“He says he doesn’t like the prescription pain pills.”

Gil nodded. “He’s smart.”

Alex still looked a little troubled, but he turned to Ben. “What did you hear from Nat about the march in Boston?”

“He said it went well. They gave the Greaters as much trouble as they could, but didn’t attack anything. They had to leave early to go buy their sugar, you know, and they’re on their way home now. They’ll probably turn up here in an hour or so.”

“Did he say anything about the group in Boston? I mean, we know Abbie and Ethan, but I gathered there were quite a few more.”

“Yeah, they stayed with a girl named Sybil Ludington and her family. They both like her a lot. I haven’t talked to him, just texted, but I think most of the group is good. There was only one guy they didn’t like.”

“Who’s that?”

“Abbie’s ugly boyfriend, John Adams.”

*          *          *          *          *

Patty lay halfway across Nat, her head on his chest. His hand was in her hair, playing with it, and every few minutes she would give a little sigh and kiss his shoulder or his collarbone or his throat. She snuggled in closer and he slid his arm down to hold her.

“So now I understand what Deb meant that time,” she said, her fingers playing over his chest.

“What was that?”

“She said Gil knew how to make a girl feel really good. Angelica laughed right away, and I knew what she was talking about, but I didn’t actually relate, if you know what I mean.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” He thought for a minute. “So are you going to be discussing us with Deb and Angelica? I have no idea what girls talk about when guys aren’t around.”

Patty giggled. “Girls talk about all kinds of things, but no. At least not in any detail – and to be fair, Deb didn’t give any details either, but that’s why I thought about asking her some questions. Not now, though.”

“No?’

“No. Maybe I’ll just say, ‘Nat knows how to make a girl feel really good.’”

“Oh, God. If you do, don’t tell me.” He turned his head to kiss her.

“I probably shouldn’t ask you this, but we’ve gotten through a lot of other awkward stuff, so I’m going to anyway.”

“Ask me what?”

“I’m glad it’s dark because I’m blushing, but you said you talked to Ben.”

“Yeah.”

“I was wondering exactly what advice he gave you.”

Nat laughed. “It wasn’t complicated. He told me to slow down. He said to take my time and let you show me what you liked.”

“It was very good advice.”

He kissed her again. “So good that I’ll continue to follow it.”

She put her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers, “I love you, Nat,” she whispered. “Show me what you like.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sybil Ludington was actually from Connecticut (and acted in both Connecticut and New York), and Deborah Sampson was from Massachusetts, and if I'd done my research properly, I would have had them in the right places, but I didn't, so Deb will stay in New York and Sybil in Boston. Sybil eventually married a guy named Edward Ogden, so I invited him in too. I'm not sure how much more we'll see of Sybil, but I like her.  
> Paul Revere was a silversmith, and a very good one. He made jewelry, tableware, and smaller items like buttons and buckles. Even in his lifetime, his work was fairly pricey because of its high quality. You can still find things made by Paul Revere, but most of us will never own them. Just for fun, I checked recent sale prices and found that in 2015, a teapot made by him sold for $233,000.00. It was a very nice teapot.  
> Many thanks to all of you who are still reading, and thank you especially for leaving comments and kudos. Honestly, I love hearing from you, and nothing is more motivating than comments. Let me know what you like. <3 <3 <3


	29. Mutual Cares, Labors, and Dangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The King government passes new, more restrictive laws. John misunderstands a metaphor. There is some discussion about love. The squad plans and carries out acts of sabotage. Gil finds out how to avoid registering as a foreign national. Nat and Patty are sent to a wedding in Philadelphia, but they are unexpectedly delayed.

The Secure Communications Act required that all landline phones and cell phones be licensed by the government. Phone numbers that were not registered would be deactivated on July thirtieth. The service providers were not given a choice of continuing service.

“We are making it harder for terrorists and criminals to communicate with one another,” President King said in his now-weekly TV address. “National security is and will always be our number-one priority.”

Both ATT and Verizon tried bringing lawsuits, but they were dismissed.

The Safe Media Act required that televisions and other viewing devices be licensed on an annual basis. Anyone wanting a TV in their home had to fill out a lengthy application explaining why they needed one.

“Easy access to multiple cable stations has regrettably made the spread of misinformation possible,” Speaker North declared. “Blatant lies and fake news stories have confused our citizens and turned them against one another. By monitoring media, we assure that only accurate information is disseminated.”

The license fee was $1,000.00 and included a reception box. Without the reception box, you couldn’t receive a signal.

The Domestic Conspiracy Act made all residents of a household over the age of twelve accomplices in any crime committed by a member of the household.

“It is ridiculous to pretend that family members can remain ignorant when criminal activities are going on right under their noses,” Police Commissioner Howe announced. “This law makes it possible to charge all those involved, and therefore keep our citizens safer.”

The term _criminal family_ began to be heard frequently.

“It’s like the boiling frog thing,” Ben said, as he, Alex, and John watched what now passed for a news program on John’s newly-licensed TV.

John looked at him in alarm. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You never heard the thing about boiling a frog?”

“Who the _fuck_ would boil a frog?”

“I don’t even know if it’s true,” Ben said hastily, seeing real anger on John’s face. “It’s just a thing …” He turned to Alex.

“Don’t drag me into it,” Alex told him. He got up to get more coffee.

“Look, it’s a thing they say, that if you drop a frog in a pot of boiling water, he’ll jump right out, but if you put him in a pot of cold water and then very gradually turn up the heat, he won’t notice, and he’ll … uh … boil to death.”

John jumped up and started pacing, still limping a little from his injury. “That is the most disgusting shit I ever heard.”

“It’s not _real_ , John,” Ben insisted. “It’s just a …” He looked at Alex imploringly.

“It’s a metaphor,” Alex said gently, putting his arm around John, and giving Ben an exasperated look.

“Well, then, it’s a fucking twisted sick metaphor,” John muttered.

“Yes, it is,” Alex agreed soothingly, “and Ben should never have brought it up.” He walked John back to the couch and sat down with him.

“How was I …?” Ben tried to defend himself, but Alex cut him off.

“You know how John is about small animals.”

“I just meant …” Ben stopped and took a breath. “Okay, John, I was not talking about actual frogs. What I was trying to say was that if things change slowly, people don’t seem to notice. King and his puppet Congress keep passing these laws under the pretense of national security and safety, and it’s almost as if nobody’s paying attention.”

John frowned at him. “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.”

“That’s all I was trying to say.”

“Then why the fuck were you talking about boiling frogs?”

“It was a mistake.”

“No shit.”

“You want some coffee?” Alex asked Ben.

“Yeah, unless you’ve got something stronger.”

Alex shook his head. “Not until Gil brings some more wine over. John, you want coffee?”

“No, but I’ll have tea.”

Alex handed Ben a cup of coffee, then put the kettle on and leaned against the counter while he waited for it to boil.

“Are Gil and Deb still … whatever they were?” Ben asked, randomly picking a subject to give John some time to calm down.

Alex shrugged. “Yeah, they’re still seeing each other. It’s not the great romance of the century, though.”

“Well, no, that title goes to Nat and Patty,” Ben pointed out.

Alex smiled. “Yeah, but they’re good together.”

“You don’t have to hear Nat talk about how wonderful she is twenty-four-seven.”

“Come on, Ben, you’ve been in love, right?”

Ben snorted. “Not like that. Nat was using the m-word the other day.”

The kettle went off and Alex poured John’s tea. “The m-word?” he asked.

Ben spread his hands out.

“I think he means marriage,” John said from his place on the couch.

Alex raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“That’s what the boy said. Two more years of college, and then happily ever after.”

Alex added milk and sugar to John’s tea and carried it over to him. He sat down next to him, putting his own cup on the end table and taking a few minutes to rub John’s back. He looked up at Ben and smiled. “Well, why not?”

“Whatever,” Ben said, “but with the mess we have to deal with now, I don’t think it’s a good time to make long-term plans.”

“Easy to say when you’re not in love yourself.”

Ben raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Yeah, I’ll let you know if that changes. But realistically now, about this Domestic Conspiracy Act – we’ve been marching for months, we’ve been calling and writing our members of Congress, and things are just getting worse. King is destroying our country, and we can’t even get people interested in it.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Alex responded. “The thing is, with the new economic designations, the ones who are interested are mostly Deplos, with a few Hopes. King’s supporters are all Haves, and they’re delighted with the way things are going.”

“Maybe we need to make their lives harder,” John suggested.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m just saying – if it became dangerous to shop at a store that only Haves had access to, or to eat in an expensive restaurant, maybe they wouldn’t be such fans of King’s government.”

“You talking about hurting people?” Ben asked warily.

John drank some of his tea and put the cup down. “There might be some collateral damage.”

*          *          *          *          *

A few days later, Alex met with Ben, John, Gil, and Angelica in Betsy’s back room.

“We need to work on some things,” he said.

“You don’t want everybody else here?” Angelica asked.

Alex shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “That’s one of the things. Don’t get me wrong. Everybody who’s working with us is great, but we can’t make every decision by committee. I talked to the General about it, and he agrees. We need a smaller group to review things initially and then put the plan before the larger group. If we want, we can then ask them for feedback or input, but we don’t have to.”

Gil looked at him speculatively. “So you think we should be that initial decision-making group?”

“Yeah.” Alex’s tone sounded a little defiant.

“What about Nat?” Angelica asked.

It was Ben who answered. “You know Nat’s my best friend, and I trust his judgment completely. It’s just …” he paused and turned toward Alex, who gave a brief nod. “We thought – well, Alex suggested it.” He smiled. “Some people might not see Alex Hamilton as sentimental, but he is. He suggested that we should give Nat and Patty a little time to themselves. Let them have this summer.”

Alex flushed as he felt their eyes on him. “None of us know what might happen,” he declared defensively, “and it’s not that hard to give Nat light duty for another few weeks. That’s not sentimental; it’s practical. His mind might not be on his work, you know.”

John laughed and took Alex’s hand. “You’re not applying that to yourself, though.”

Alex shoved his chair closer to John’s and put his arm around him, pulling John’s head down on his shoulder. “We’ve had some time, _mi amor.”_ He ran his fingers through John’s curls.

John raised his head and kissed Alex gently on his cheek. “I know. We’ve been lucky.”

“Jesus, you’re talking like the world’s about to end,” Angelica snapped.

“Maybe it is,” Gil said softly. “The world we thought we would live in now has already ended. I think Alex is right. Let Nat and Patty have a few weeks, and then Nat can take on more significant work in September. We would all want the same thing, wouldn’t we?”

Angelica rolled her eyes. “Are you serious, or are you being the Romantic French Guy because that’s what we all expect?”

“I’m serious. In times like these, we take love where we can find it.”

“But you and Deb don’t fit that category?”

“No, we don’t.” Gil shrugged. “I like Deb, and she likes me, but we are not – how should I put it? We are not destined to be together.”

“Not soulmates?” Ben asked.

Gil frowned. “I do not know that word.”

 _“Des âmes soeurs,”_ Alex offered, “but more than that. I don’t know, _le vrai amour_ , maybe or _l’amour éternel.”_

“Okay, I understand,” Gil nodded. “I don’t know that I even believe in that, but if it is real, then no, that is not what Deb and I are.”

“Great,” Ben said, “can we move on then, if everybody agrees that we give Nat a break for now?”

“A few days ago,” Alex picked up, “I spoke to the General about sabotage. As John pointed out, the ones who benefit from King’s government are the Haves. Although they’re a minority, they have the economic power, and King’s laws have made their lives easier. It seems only logical that making their lives a little less pleasant might turn their attention to their fellow-citizens who are suffering.”

“What did you have in mind?” Angelica asked warily.

“Well, John seemed to like the idea of blowing things up, but the General thinks that might be going a little too far at the moment.”

John snorted. “Spoilsport.”

“The goal, at least for now,” Alex went on, ignoring John, “is to create inconveniences, fairly minor unpleasantness, to make Haves uncomfortable and to keep them off balance. If the fire alarm won’t stop going off in their favorite restaurant, they don’t enjoy their dinner out. If the air conditioning doesn't work in the concert hall, they leave during intermission.”

“Doesn’t that hurt the restaurant workers or the musicians, who are likely to be Hopes?” Gil asked.

“Yes, and that’s what we have to be careful about. One event will be considered an accident. We never strike the same place twice. And of course, we do our best not to injure anybody as we do this.”

“No guns?”

“Not for now.”

Gil shrugged. “What about damage to buildings or neighborhoods? Or disruptions?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not hard to make a roof leak. If we’re careful, we might give a whole neighborhood leaky roofs at once. Also, I think it is possible to rent those … what are they called? Those very noisy saws for tree branches?”

“Chainsaws?”

“Yes, and if, perhaps, we have uniforms, you know, like city workers have, we might trim trees in a Have neighborhood, very early in the morning.”

John was looking at Gil in awed delight, nodding. “We can rent jackhammers, too …”

_“Comment?”_

_“Des marteaux-piqueurs,”_ Alex translated.

_“Ah, bon? Mais c’est genial!”_

“Dig up the streets in front of their driveways,” John suggested. “Slash tires …”

_“Renverser les poubelles …”_

_“Volcar las basuras,”_ Alex translated again, but into the wrong language.

“English, dammit,” Angelica told him.

“Sorry, um, dump their trash cans.”

“Okay. Wow. I’m thinking John and Gil were deprived of opportunities to commit vandalism while they were kids, and they want to make up for it now.”

Gil grinned at her. “That is not entirely untrue.”

“We hit different businesses, different neighborhoods, keep them worried,” John said.

“Yes, but at the same time, we communicate the difficult circumstances that the Hopes, and even more so the Deplos, live under,” Angelica added. “We don’t talk to the Haves as if they’re the villains, but we point out how the King government is treating their fellow citizens …”

“While simultaneously making their lives miserable, so that the advantages of being Haves are diminished to where they may feel that King doesn’t deserve their unquestioning support,” John finished.

Ben leaned back in his chair. “I think we have a plan.”

*          *          *          *          *

Ben and Alex decided to call their activities Missions, since they had to be careful to veil their language as much as possible. They had to assume that phones registered with the government were monitored.

John came up with an original plan for the first Mission. He went to the grocery store, bought two pounds of frozen raw shrimp, and called Angelica as soon as he got home.

“You’re out of your fucking mind,” she told him.

“Come on, Ange, what could be easier? How many stores do you think we can hit in one day?”

She didn’t say anything for a minute, then asked, “You’re positive the IDs are secure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay, but if it goes wrong, I will kill you with my bare hands.”

John had made fake Have IDs only for himself and Angelica. John’s legal ID was a Have, but he despised the status, knowing it was only because of his father’s money. He usually preferred to use a fake Hope ID just to feel he was playing on the same level as his friends. This time, though, he and Angelica were Sean and Allison Burns, wealthy brother and sister, visiting New York from their home in Virginia. They were shopping in the very best Have-only stores and boutiques in the city. Both of them were fashionably dressed, and Eliza had done Angelica’s make-up to perfection. They looked exactly like what they were supposed to be, spoiled rich kids buying beautiful and expensive things for themselves.

The first store they went to was Poppy, an exclusive women’s fashion boutique. Angelica couldn’t make up her mind and finally selected five or six items to try on. While she was in the dressing room, John was at his most charming, engaging the clerk in conversation, complaining jokingly about shopping with his sister, and generally doing everything he could to keep the staff distracted. Angelica tried on a dozen more garments, but eventually rejected everything except a single scarf.

From Poppy, they went to Marisol, a pricey art gallery that sold sculptures and vessels as well as paintings. There, Angelica asked lots of questions while John wandered around, occasionally picking up a small item and examining it. Then John wanted more information about one of the artists, and the sales clerk had to leave the showroom momentarily to find it. They pretended to have a hard time deciding between two paintings and promised to come back the next day to purchase one.

They ate lunch at Carousel, where both of them used the rest rooms.

Finally, they visited Tanner and Marsh, who sold “gentlemen’s apparel.” Now it was John who was indecisive and kept trying on different outfits, while Angelica flirted outrageously with the salesman and even, after acting coy for a good ten minutes, gave him her phone number -- or at least a phone number.

They got back to the apartment where everyone else was gathered at around four o’clock, and Angelica declared she wasn’t reporting on anything until she changed her clothes and took off her make-up. “My eyelashes are stuck together,” she complained.

“But you look beautiful,” Alex called after her. The only response he got was the sound of the shower running. “How did it go?” he asked John.

“Uh-uh,” John told him. “It was a joint Mission. We both report.”

Eliza smiled. “You both seem to have survived. I guess that means things went well.”

John smiled back. “I think I’ll get changed too,” he said, and left them all waiting.

“They’re loving the suspense,” Ben concluded, and he wasn’t wrong. When John and Angelica finally were ready to give their account of the day’s activities, they were both still running high on excitement.

“First,” John said, “thanks to Herc for making us the insulated bags. They worked great. Nothing thawed, and we were able to just toss the bags in trash bins along the street.”

Each small insulated bag had held three or four raw frozen shrimp. It had been important that they stay frozen. Angelica’s large, fashionable purse had held a dozen of the bags.

“In the women’s boutique, I put shrimp in the pockets of four things I tried on. I also found that there was enough space for me to shove two of them between the cushions of the cute little upholstered chair that was in the dressing room.”

“Excellent,” Alex nodded.

“I put three in various items in the art gallery,” John continued. “I was careful to pick items that had small or irregular openings so that it will be very hard to identify what’s in them. I also put a few behind pictures frames when we got the salesman to leave the room for a few minutes.”

“At Carousel, we were both able to get several into air vents in the rest rooms,” Angelica said.

“And then at Tanner and Marsh, I did the same thing Angelica did at Poppy, except there was no upholstered chair in the dressing room, so not that.”

“How long before they start to smell?” Ben asked.

They all looked at each other. “A few days, maybe?” John guessed.

“By then, no one will remember who tried on what,” Angelica said. “Besides, we both kept talking and changing our minds. I don’t even remember which clothes I put them in now.”

Herc laughed and shook his head. “There’s not much that smells worse than bad shrimp.”

“I know, right?” John agreed, grinning. “And it will take them some time to figure it out because the whole store will stink, and they’ll have to search everywhere. While they’re searching, it will just be getting worse.”

“It was a genius plan, John,” Ben said.

“Thank Gabriel over there,” John responded, gesturing to the angel print hanging on the wall.

“Gabriel?”

John glanced at Alex. “It’s a picture Alex and I got a while ago. I said he could be our guardian angel, so I sort of asked him for inspiration.”

Eliza frowned. “You prayed to him for ideas on how to vandalize businesses?”

John reflected for a minute. “When you put it like that, it doesn’t sound so good, but yeah, I guess.”

“Gabriel, patron saint of the Movement,” Nat commented.

“Technically, I don’t think angels can be saints,” Alex began, but John motioned for him to stop.

“I’m not religious,” he said. “It’s more like a good-luck thing.”

“Listen, I’m in favor of anything that works,” Ben told him.

Four days later, Carousel had to close temporarily because of “a problem with the climate-control system.” Both Poppy and Tanner and Marsh shut down while they dealt with “quality control issues.” Marisol closed its doors to “re-evaluate” its inventory. Regular shoppers, all Haves, were annoyed and inconvenienced.

The next Mission was set up in a prosperous Have neighborhood of new houses. The properties were large, with considerable distance between homes and lots of trees and shrubs that were ideal for concealing activities at night. They were working in two teams of four: Alex, John, Herc, and Johan; and Ben, Gil, Nat, and Joe Allicocke. Joe’s uncle was a roofing contractor, and he had been able to mock up a square yard of fake roof for them so they could see how the layers went together. They all practiced removing shingles with what Joe called a rake. The problem was that it couldn’t be done silently.

“We watch the weather carefully,” Gil directed. “We need a windy night when rain is predicted within a day or two. If it’s windy, there will already be some noise. And we don’t have to remove a large area of shingles. We only want to create a leak, not destroy the roof.”

Once they got the shingles off, they’d need to drill a few holes in the plywood, and they opted for old-fashioned hand-operated drills. “They’re slower, but they don’t make any noise,” Joe said. They practiced on scrap plywood until they could all drill through it in a matter of minutes.

The most difficult part was going to be setting up the ladders, but they had found folding ladders that would fit into John’s and Gil’s cars. For each team, one would drive, one stay on the ground to secure the ladder, and two would be on the roof. They timed themselves by practicing in the alley behind Betsy’s and figured they could do a roof in well under half an hour.

They monitored the weather carefully until they found what they were waiting for: a windy night followed by heavy thunderstorms starting just before dawn. Herc and Nat were driving; Alex and Ben would be responsible for securing the ladders and, if necessary, making the decision to pull them down, fold them, and get to the cars if discovery threatened. That would mean John, Johan, Gil, or Joe might have to make their way off a roof and get away on their own, but they figured the probability was small, and, after all, nothing was risk-free.

The wind kicked up at around midnight, and by one o’clock in the morning, they were in place. Alex’s team started on the side of a two-story house where the ladder would be in the shade of a large tree. There were bushes near the house that would also help conceal Alex.  John and Johan cleared two small areas on the roof and tossed the shingles down. Alex put them in a trash bag, and they moved on to the next house. They were allowing themselves two hours, and were to meet back at the cars at three.

The first house Ben’s team tried had a dog that started barking loudly and incessantly the minute they tried to set up the ladder. Ben immediately cancelled that attempt, and they moved on to the next house, where they were successful.

At the third house that Alex’s team went to, a light came on in what was probably the master bedroom right after John and Johan got on the roof. They froze at a signal from Alex, who flattened himself against the side of the house, but after a few minutes, the light went off, and they continued. They only did one area on that roof and got off as quickly as they could, but there was no further alarm.

At three, they were back at the cars as agreed, high-fiving and laughing, while Herc and Nat did their best to shut them up. Herc was out-voted about making an unscheduled stop on the way home, and they arrived at the apartment with a couple of dozen donuts. Alex made coffee, John made tea, and when they heard the first thunderstorm break right before dawn, they all burst out laughing. They’d managed to vandalize nine houses spread over a large area. They’d dumped the bags of shingles in a commercial dumpster at a construction site miles away from the neighborhood they’d hit, and they were high on the adrenaline of a successful Mission.

“I’ve got to tell Ethan and Tony and Frank what we’re doing,” Alex declared, helping himself to his third donut. “I wish I could call them.” The government-registered phones made open communication on them too risky. Alex knew that some of the people working with the General were trying to figure out how to circumvent government access to private conversations, but they weren’t there yet.

“What about snail mail?” Joe asked.

Ben shook his head. “It’s hard to know. Probably most stuff goes through without being opened, but it’s still a government agency, and I don’t think it’s worth the risk.” He looked at Alex. “You want to just send somebody with a report? They have a conversation, and there’s no record.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Alex nodded. “Let’s put something together. Maybe I can talk to Tony a little, make it sound like we’re talking about fantasy football or something, you know, getting friends from different areas to participate.”

“If you need anybody to be courier, Patty and I can take Betsy’s van on another buying trip,” Nat offered. “There’s got to be something in Philadelphia that Betsy needs.”

“I’ll think about it. How about we get some sleep now?”

Gil lingered to talk to Alex after everyone else left. “I have heard from Monsieur Gérard at the embassy,” he said.

Alex raised his eyebrow questioningly. “About your registration, you mean?’

“Yes.”

“And?”

Gil looked disgusted. “It seems that the law about registration can be flexible if one is able to pay a fee. For only fifty thousand dollars, I can avoid having to register.”

Alex snorted. “Why am I not surprised?”

“So that is proof that it has nothing to do with national security.”

“Unless the theory is that rich people are less likely to be dangerous to the government.”

 _“En effet.”_ Gil’s mouth twitched just a little. “I think that they may be wrong about that.”

“Are you going to pay the fee?” Alex asked. Fifty thousand dollars was an astronomical amount of money to him, but he knew Gil was wealthier than even John.

“Of course,” Gil shrugged. “I would like to see their theory put to the test.”

He started to open the door, and Alex put his hand on his arm. “Gil,” he said, “be careful.”

 _“Mais naturellement, mon frère,”_ Gil responded with a grin, and left.

John, who had left them alone, came back into the living room after he heard the door close. “Gil okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I guess,” Alex replied, his voice hesitant.

“Is he going to do something stupid?”

“No, not stupid, but …” Alex thought for a minute. “It’s hard to know what Gil might do.”

John put his arm around Alex’s shoulder. “You could give him a direct order. He wouldn’t disobey that.”

Alex kissed John’s cheek. “The thing about that is, I can’t even figure out what I would have to forbid him to do.”

John laughed. “We were up all night. Think about it later. Let’s go to bed.”

*          *          *          *          *

Alex had a conversation with Tony the next day that would have been incomprehensible to anyone else. He talked about football, which wasn’t a particularly brilliant idea since Alex wasn’t much of a sports fan, but he told Tony he had learned about several new plays that were quite effective, and Tony was smart enough to figure out what that meant. Alex mentioned that one of his assistant coaches and his girlfriend might be visiting Philly soon, and maybe they could stop in and talk about the new plays. “You probably know my assistant,” Alex said. “Tall blond guy from New Haven.”

“Right, right, the one with the friend who always makes fun of his name.”

“That’s it.”

“That would be great. Hey, if they come next Saturday, they can be here for the wedding.” Tony suggested enthusiastically.

“The wedding?” Alex asked. He wasn’t sure if this was another disguised topic, but apparently not.

“Will Hays and Molly Ludwig are getting married,” Tony said. “You talked to Will a couple of weeks ago, remember?”

“Oh, sure,” Alex said, “when you got …uh … hurt.” Probably not wise to mention Tony getting shot on a licensed phone.

“Right. Anyway, Will and Molly are getting married next weekend, so you can tell your assistant the more the merrier, you know? Wedding’s at two, at Old St. George’s.”

In other words, easier for Nat and Patty to blend into a crowd and not be noticed.

“Sure, I’ll let them know. Tell Will I said congratulations.”

*          *          *          *          *

“I think we get the best assignments of anybody,” Patty said as they headed south on 95 the following Saturday.

“You’re absolutely right,” Nat agreed. “This is definitely more fun than sitting in a car waiting for Gil and Joe to drill holes in somebody’s roof.”

“You think Will and Molly will like the wedding present?” Patty asked, looking over her shoulder at the festively wrapped box. The attached card was signed _Love, Nat and Patty_. Inside the box was an ordinary ceramic serving dish, but the bottom of the box had an extra layer that contained detailed descriptions of the sabotage operations that they were running in New York. Tony would have to take the box apart to find them, but Alex was confident he would figure that out. Patty and Nat were also going to buy fresh blueberries at whatever farm stand they found, so they had plenty of cover for this trip. The only downside in their eyes was that it wasn’t an overnight trip.

“Come on,” Ben had said, “it’s two hours to Philly. You buy some blueberries, put them in the coolers, you go to the wedding, you’re still home before dark.”

“We could stay over, though,” Nat had suggested. “Visit the city a little. See Independence Hall.”

“It’s closed,” Ben reminded him, “and anyway, either you’re on Movement business or you’re not. If you and Patty want to take a trip, that’s fine. Go to Philly, go to the beach, whatever, but you do that on your own. If you’re doing a job, you can’t just take extra time, not to mention keeping Betsy’s van longer than you need to.”

Ben was right, so their visit to Philadelphia was just a day trip, but they still planned to enjoy it as much as they could. There was construction on 95, so Nat cut west, and they crossed the Delaware at New Hope.

“Be sure to tell Ben that the construction was really bad,” he reminded Patty. “It would have seriously slowed us down.”

“Absolutely. It was terrible. Anyway, this is much less stressful.”

They drove through the pretty countryside dotted with farms and old stone houses. They found fresh blueberries at a produce stand and filled the two large coolers with them, and then stopped for lunch in a small town. They took a few minutes to walk around the town, browsing in a second-hand book store and admiring the old buildings.

“Oh, look,” Patty said, taking Nat’s hand and pointing to a shop across the street. “Handmade soap.” She pulled him into the shop and took a deep breath. “Oh, it smells so good.”

Nat smiled as she went from one display to another, sniffing the different soaps. The store owner, who crafted the soaps herself, explained the ingredients of each bar until Nat had to remind Patty that they were supposed to be in Philly by two. She finally selected two floral scents, rose and lily-of-the-valley, and bought them.

“I’m going to smell so good,” she told Nat happily.

“Now I’m wishing we hadn’t stopped there,” Nat said.

“Why? What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m going to have a very hard time keeping my mind on the road while I’m imagining how good you’re going to smell.”

Patty laughed. “Okay, you drive, and I promise you won’t have to wait long. Mom’s working tomorrow.”

“You’re killing me, girl.”

“What sounds better, rose or lily-of-the-valley?”

“I swear to God, I’m going to pull this van off the road and take you into …” he stopped and then his voice changed. “Shit.”

“What?”

He gestured at the rear view mirror as he steered onto the shoulder. “Flashing lights. Greaters. Just stay calm. We’re okay.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> William Hays and Molly Ludwig were a real married couple, although Molly is generally known by her nickname. You'll meet her again in Provoke Outrage.  
> Thanks for reading, commenting and kudos. I love hearing from you.


	30. Up Against the Ruffians

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nat and Patty miss the wedding. Alex gets what seems like a drunk call from Crazy Tony. Nat tries to act like Alex. TJ has some useful information. John makes three plans.

John was making chicken for dinner, and Alex was trying to be helpful.

“Don’t you think you should cover the pan?”

“No.”

“What kind of spices are you using?”

“Salt and pepper.” John nudged Alex out of the way and slid the pan into the oven.

“Huh. The chicken you made last week was really good. Why don’t you use the same spices?”

“I am. Salt and pepper.” John sighed and shook his head. “It’s a good thing I love you. You are a pain in the ass.”

Alex pretended to pout. “I’m just trying to help.”

“I’ll tell you what, if you’re really good, I’ll let you measure the rice.”

“How good do I have to be?” Alex asked, batting his eyelashes.

John pulled him in for a long kiss. “Very, very good,” he murmured, and kissed him again, his hand cradling Alex’s head and holding him in place.

When Alex’s phone rang, his first inclination was to ignore it, but he pulled back long enough to take a quick look at the screen. “Shit, it’s Crazy Tony,” he muttered.

“He’s probably just drunk calling from the wedding,” John said, moving in for another kiss.

Alex held up a finger and answered the phone. He could hear music playing in the background.

“Hey, Tony, how’s it going?”

“It’s good. I’m at Will’s wedding.”

Alex rolled his eyes at John and nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I figured. I can hear the music.”

“Nice wedding,” Tony continued, his voice a little slurred. “Molly looks beautiful. Happy couple.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Tell them congratulations for me.”

“I will. Wish you could tell them yourself. Too bad none of you guys could make it.”

Alex was suddenly alert. “I’m sorry, Tony, I’m having trouble hearing you over the music. What was that again?”

“I just said it’s too bad none of you guys made it to the wedding.” There was the slightest emphasis on the word _none_. Tony was stone cold sober.

“Yeah, you’re right, Tony. I thought at least one of us would be able to get down there, but you know how it is.”

“Sure, shit happens.” Tony gave a giddy chuckle. “Hey, gotta go. There’s a hot bridesmaid looking for me. Tell everybody I said hi.”

“I will.”

“’Specially Ben. Don’t forget to tell him.”

“I’ll tell him. Don’t worry.”

“You’re a good guy, Alex. You call me tomorrow, okay?”

“I promise.”

They hung up, and Alex looked at John. “Nat and Patty never got there.”

John’s eyes went wide. “Fuck.”

Alex called Ben.

*          *          *          *          *

Patty was in the back seat of the Greaters’ car, but they had kept Nat at the side of the road, asking him the same questions over and over. He gave silent thanks for the drills Alex had put them all through, practicing responding to questions. This one should be relatively easy. He and Patty were both using their own names and IDs. In addition to their government IDs, she had her work ID from Betsy’s and he had his student ID. The van was registered to Betsy’s business, and the paperwork was all in order. What the hell was the delay?

It was about ninety degrees, and Nat was sweating and thirsty. He asked politely if he could get a bottle of water from the cooler and was told to shut up. He couldn’t see Patty since the police car was behind the van and they were keeping him near the front of it. He knew they’d be asking her questions too, probably the same questions they were asking him, but he knew she knew the right answers.

It had seemed like a routine stop. The Greaters had the right to stop any vehicle now for random checks, and they did it sometimes just to harass people, but usually that’s all it was. They hadn’t searched the van. Even if they did, they wouldn’t find anything except two coolers full of blueberries. The paperwork for Tony was hidden in a double-bottomed gift box, and surely, it wouldn’t occur to them to rip a gift box apart, would it?

“Why are you going to Philadelphia?” the Greater with the most gold braid on his sleeves asked for what had to be the tenth time.

“We’re going to a wedding,” Nat responded. “My friend Will is getting married.” He tried a rueful smile. “I’d hate to miss the wedding.”

“What’s your friend’s last name?”

“Hays. Will Hays – well, William, really.”

“And how do you know him?”

“We worked together in Point Pleasant last summer, at an ice cream place.” That was a total fabrication, but Alex had come up with it to avoid any mention of the internships and possible association with the Washington government. Summer businesses along the Jersey shore had high employee turnover, and some of them paid workers under the counter, so verifying who worked in every small business was virtually impossible.

“What was the name of the business?”

“Lickety-Splits.” The place really existed, and Nat devoutly hoped nobody was calling there to check his work history.

“Why’d you come all the way to Jersey from Connecticut for a summer job?”

“Jobs are easier to find at the shore, and it’s a fun place to spend the summer.”

The Greater snorted as if fun was a concept he wasn’t familiar with. He was wearing mirrored sunglasses, so it was impossible to read his face.

“How about your girlfriend?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did she work at this place too?”

“No, I met her at the coffee shop where she works.”

“You go to New York for coffee?”

“No, but I go into New York sometimes to see a show or something.” He and Patty had practiced this story. He knew she’d say the same thing.

The Greater in the car with Patty opened the door and called, “Yo, Troy.”

The guy in front of Nat nodded, then said, “I’ve got your car keys, and your girlfriend’s in our car. Don’t try anything.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” Nat retorted, his patience wearing thin, and his mood made worse by the heat. Troy stood there staring for a minute – at least he seemed to be staring, but it was hard to tell with the sunglasses – then turned and went to the car.

Nat stared at the ground, running everything back through his mind. They hadn’t used their phones. They’d stopped only to buy blueberries, eat lunch, and visit the soap store. There was nothing, absolutely nothing they’d done, that would have gotten the attention of the police. More than an hour had gone by. They were going to be late for the wedding. How much time would Tony wait before he knew something was wrong? A while probably, at least a couple of hours, so he wouldn’t have contacted Ben or Alex yet.

Nat risked a glance at the Greaters’ car, hoping to be able to see Patty, but the tinted windows made it impossible. What if he went over to the car, demanded to be allowed to go on their way since the police had no reason whatsoever to detain them? Alex could pull that off, or Gil, but he wasn’t sure he could. He hated that he was sick to his stomach with fear.

What was it Alex had said one time? _Being brave isn’t not being afraid; it’s doing the right thing even when you’re scared to death_.

Well, he had the _scared to death_ part covered. Now he had to figure out what was the right thing to do.

*          *          *          *          *

“What route were they planning to take?” Alex asked.

Ben pushed his hair off his face. “Oh, God, I don’t know. Probably 95 most of the way, but they were going to look for farm stands to buy the blueberries, and if there was a lot of traffic or construction, they might get off and take a back way.”

“Summer Saturday, there’s bound to be traffic,” John said, checking a map on his phone. “We can’t check every possible route.”

Angelica frowned. “If they’d had car trouble or an accident, they’d have called, for sure, right?”

“Yeah, that would have been normal for a couple going to a wedding. There wouldn’t be any reason for them not to,” Ben responded.

Alex bit his lip. “Look, not to bring up worst case scenario, but …”

“But if there was a very bad accident, they wouldn’t be able to call,” Gil finished for him.

“No,” Ben said, shaking his head. “They were using their own IDs, and they had the paperwork for the van. Betsy would have gotten a call by now, especially if they’d been injured.”

“What are the other options, then?” Angelica asked, not really wanting to.

“Only two possibilities, really – either they deviated from the Mission on their own, and I’m discounting that because they wouldn’t, period, or someone has stopped them and they’re not able to contact us,” Alex said.

There was silence around the table for a minute, and then John got up restlessly and put the kettle on, more to have something to do than because he wanted tea. The chicken he’d been preparing for dinner had been done an hour ago, and he’d taken it out of the oven and put it right in the refrigerator. “Anybody hungry?” he asked now. “I could make some sandwiches.”

Nobody even answered, but they’d been sitting there consuming nothing but coffee and tea for the last couple of hours. He pulled the chicken out of the fridge and got out the bread. At least it gave him something to do.

Gil stared at the map on John’s still-open phone. “If I were going for a long ride with my girlfriend, I would not want to be on the interstate. I would want to find a route with pretty scenery, maybe with nice places to stop for lunch.”

Ben nodded. “Okay, that makes sense. Nat had been giving me a hard time because I told him they couldn’t make this a romantic weekend getaway, you know. I mean, it was a joke, but I can see that they might want to enjoy it as much as they could, make the best of it.”

Gil pointed to the map. “Here, along the highway, it is very industrial and ugly and also it smells bad. Over here, there is woods, but nothing else, and trees by themselves are not interesting. But if they go west here into Pennsylvania, they are in an area with small towns and pretty countryside.”

“How do you know all this?” Alex asked him.

“You don’t think about finding nice places to take your boyfriend, like I think about nice places to take my girlfriend?” Gil shook his head and turned to look across the counter that divided the kitchen from the living room. “I feel sorry for you, John.”

“I don’t even have a fucking car, and that’s not the point,” Alex snapped.

“No, wait,” Angelica said. “Gil may be right. If we can at least make a good guess about which way they went, we could go look for them.”

“Not now. It would be dark before we even got out of New Jersey,” Alex retorted impatiently.

John put a teapot and a plate of sandwiches down on the table, and gave Alex a light kiss on the forehead. “You’ve had about ten cups of coffee without eating anything, and you’re cranky, babe,” he said. “I think Gil may be onto something.”

Alex huffed out an angry breath, but picked up a sandwich and bit into it.

Ben poured himself a cup of tea. “We’ll wait till morning.” He added milk to the tea and stirred it slowly, then looked up. “If they’re not here by six, we’ll pick the two most likely routes and go.”

No one objected. Then Angelica spoke, tentatively for her. “Is Patty’s mom expecting her home tonight? Should we call? I think we need to call Betsy now and tell her that we’re pretty sure her van is missing.”

Alex nodded reluctantly. “Shit, I hate this stuff,” he muttered.

“I’ll do it,” Angelica said. “I’ll call her, tell her they didn’t show up in Philly, and that we’re trying to figure out where they might be. She knows Patty’s mom better than we do; I’ll see what she thinks about calling her.”

*          *          *          *          *

Nat opened the door of the police car suddenly, and almost laughed as the astonished driver nearly fell out at his feet. Troy jumped out the passenger side door and aimed his gun. Nat heard Patty gasp and catch her breath on a muffled sob.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Troy yelled while the other cop fumbled for his gun.

 _Act like Alex,_ Nat reminded himself. “I’m trying to find out why you stopped us and why you’ve been holding us with no reason for two hours. We’ve already missed my friend’s wedding. If we’re under arrest, by all means take us to the station where at least we can get a drink of water. If we’re not under arrest, give me back the car keys, and we’ll get out of here.”

“We’re not done checking everything yet,” said the driver of the police car whose name tag said Waters.

“You know who I am, you know who my girlfriend is, and you know whose car we’re driving. You know why we’re driving it. What else do you have to check?”

“We need to verify …”

Nat cut him off. “Verify what? What else is there?”

Waters looked at Troy. “We need to do a thorough search of the vehicle,” he declared.

Still doing his best to channel Alex, Nat said, “Then by all means, do it. And since you seem to have unnecessarily upset my girlfriend, I’ll wait here with her.”

Troy and Waters exchanged looks again, and then Troy muttered, “I’ve got the keys. I’ll do it.”

There were guns concealed in the side panels of the van, but the panels were locked and the keyholes disguised by bolts. The key was a charm on Patty’s bracelet. They wouldn’t find the guns. The only possible danger was the list of sabotage plans that Alex was sending to Tony, but they’d not only have to open the supposed wedding present, they’d have to rip out the bottom of the box and figure out that it was a double thickness with a paper between two layers of cardboard. It was very unlikely that they’d find it.

When Troy went to search the van, Nat opened the back door of the police car without asking permission, and got in next to Patty. She reached over and grabbed his hand, but stayed silent, her brown eyes huge in her pale face. Nat squeezed her hand three times. I. Love. You. She gave him a faint, watery smile.

Troy came back in less time than he should have. He gave Nat a calculating look, then said to Waters, “I think we should take that van back to the station and have it searched properly. I’ll cuff them so you can take them in the car. I’ll drive the van.”

*          *          *          *          *

Betsy told Angelica not to worry about the van, just to focus on finding Nat and Patty. The van was insured. She also said that she didn’t think it was a good idea to call Mrs. Manning. Patty had told her that they were going to a wedding in Philadelphia and she wasn’t sure when they’d be home. She would assume that they’d stayed in Philly or that Patty had stayed at Nat’s for the night. “Look,” Betsy said, “Fran Manning is a pretty relaxed parent. Like she says, Patty’s eighteen; it’s her life. And she likes Nat, so she won’t be worried for a while.”

“Okay,” Angelica agreed, “we’ll leave it at that. Hopefully by tomorrow, we’ll have some good news.”

“We should get some sleep,” John said practically. “Everybody go home and be back here by six in the morning unless we hear something before then.”

“We take both cars tomorrow, right?” Gil asked John. “Yours and mine?”

“Yeah, two different routes, I think.”

Gil and Ben left, and Angelica turned to Alex. “Okay if I tell Eliza what’s going on?”

“Sure, I don’t see why not.”

Angelica and Eliza were still staying at Deb’s apartment. They had finally lied to their parents, telling them they were taking summer seminar classes to explain why they wanted to spend most of the summer in the city. The Schuylers, busy turning the guest room into a nursery, had barely looked up from their paint samples, and they certainly hadn’t raised any objections. Deb was away with her family for a couple of weeks, so Angelica and Eliza had the place to themselves at the moment.

“She’ll want to come with me in the morning,” Angelica continued.

“It’s okay,” Alex told her. “Hopefully, we’ll have heard from them by then and we won’t have to go anywhere.”

“You think that’s what’s going to happen?”

“No, but let’s not go to worst case scenario yet.”

She held his gaze for a minute, then gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and was out the door.

“Come on, babe,” John said, throwing his arm around him. “Let’s go to bed.”

“I won’t be able to sleep,” Alex told him.

“Okay, you just rest then.”

Alex turned and put his face against John’s shoulder. “I hate this,” he said. “I hate being this scared.”

John kissed his hair. _“Lo sé, mi amor,”_ he murmured. He held Alex for a few minutes. “Come on. I’ll rub your back to help you relax.”

He led Alex by the hand and as they walked past the angel picture he glanced up at it and whispered _“Ayúdanos.”_

*          *          *          *          *

The worst part now was not knowing where Patty was. The cell he was in was small and gray, but at least he wasn’t sharing it with anyone. He hoped Patty was in a similar one.

“Why can’t we be in the same cell?” he had asked angrily, and the Greater in charge had put on a shocked face and said, “We can’t have men and women sharing a cell.”

“Oh, right, because men never have sex with each other in jail,” Nat had snapped, every last shred of his patience exhausted. He’d gotten punched in the face for that, and Patty had screamed, making him feel even worse. They had dragged her away, still handcuffed.

That had been hours ago. The cut over his cheekbone had stopped bleeding. There was no mirror around, but he figured he must look like hell. He’d splashed his face with cold water from the thin trickle that resulted when he turned on the tap of the tiny sink, but the cut probably could have used a stitch, and he was pretty sure he had a black eye too.

He lay on his back on the hard bunk, staring up at the ceiling and wondering what time it was. He was hungry, and lunch had been long ago. At least he’d been able to get some water, but by now it had to be the middle of the night. He wondered what Ben and Alex and Tony were doing. They’d be working on some plan to find them, but he couldn’t imagine what it might be. As far he could tell, there would be no trace of them anywhere. A few cars had gone by while they’d been pulled over on Route 32, but not many, and, anyway, who would have paid attention. Nobody even knew what road they’d be on.

He tried to tell himself that the Greaters would find nothing in the van to implicate them in any crime. The gun storage was virtually undetectable, and the sabotage instructions were well disguised in a wedding-gift box. So what was the delay? Why were they still being held? Back before King’s government, he would have been able to make a phone call; now he didn’t even have his phone. The Greaters had taken both his and Patty’s phones, so there was no way to communicate with anyone. He didn’t like that the numbers of all the Movement leaders and many of the members were in his phone. He could argue that they were his friends – he and Patty had a lot of the same numbers saved, of course – but the Greaters could still be making a list.

He wracked his brain with the same questions over and over – why had they been stopped in the first place? What was suspicious about Betsy’s van with its cheerful yellow logo? Would they find the guns or the sabotage plans? Finally, and most crucial, where was Patty, and was she safe?

He must have dozed a little because a noise outside his cell startled him awake. He sat up and saw a uniformed Greater staring at him through the bars.

“Go back to sleep, sonny,” the officer said. “I’m just doing the cell check. You’re not going anywhere.”

The night continued.

*          *          *          *          *

John, having failed to get everyone to eat breakfast, was handing out protein bars and bottles of water to take with them. “Stay hydrated and eat when you’re hungry,” he ordered.

“You’ve got Alex with you, right?” Ben asked. “He won’t listen to me.”

“Right,” John said. “You and Angelica are going with Gil in his car. I’ve got Alex and Eliza.” Eliza had insisted on coming with them, and John was grateful, since she was the only one other than himself that Alex would pay attention to.

Ben had called Ethan and TJ the night before, just to keep them in the loop and maybe kick some ideas around.  TJ thought he might be able to do something, although of course he couldn’t be specific on the phone. He’d said he’d call in the morning, so they were waiting now to hear from him. Alex wanted to get going right away, but they’d voted him down. If TJ had an idea about what might have happened to Nat and Patty, they wanted to hear it before they went off on a wild goose chase.

“Look,” Ben was explaining again, “I just told Ethan and TJ that it was a shame Nat and Patty didn’t get to the wedding.”

“You didn’t use their names, did you?” Angelica asked.

“Of course not – my roommate and his girlfriend. Said I thought maybe they’d had car trouble, but I hadn’t heard from them. Ethan and TJ aren’t stupid; they caught on. TJ just told me that he knew a guy with a towing service along the way, and he’d get in touch with him and call me back around seven in the morning.”

“So that could mean anything, really,” Eliza said.

Gil frowned. “No, he was telling us that he knows someone who may be able to help.”

“What do you mean?”

“If he didn’t have anything specific to communicate, he would have said something general, like he’d ask around. He has some sort of information that he couldn’t tell us last night.”

Alex nodded thoughtfully. “That makes sense. He would have to check with the General before he revealed anything that we didn’t need to know.”

“I think you’re right, Gil,” Ben said. He allowed himself a deep breath and looked at his phone, willing it to ring.

“TJ said he’d call at seven?” Angelica asked.

“Around seven,” Ben told her. It was six fifty-eight.

Exactly two minutes later, the phone rang. Typical TJ, Angelica thought, compulsive to the second.

“Hey,” Ben answered it, doing his best to sound casual. He switched his phone to speaker.

“I talked to Kevin, my towing guy,” TJ said after a minute of pointless chat for the benefit of anyone monitoring. “He said he got a call yesterday from somewhere around New Hope for a van tow – you said they had a van, right?”

“Yeah, a white van.”

“Well, Kevin says he was booked up and he couldn’t take the job, so he told them they’d have to find somebody else.”

“Did he recommend anybody?”

“No, he’s in Jersey, and he doesn’t usually cross the river to work in Pennsylvania.” Was there the slightest emphasis on the words _cross the river_? “He didn’t really know anybody over there to recommend.” _Over there._

“What time did he get the call, did he say?”

“Not long before lunch time.”

Ben looked around to see if anybody had anything to add. Gil had his phone open to a map, and held it out, but all Ben could see was a map of New Jersey. He shrugged, then went back to his conversation with TJ. “Okay, thanks for getting back to me, TJ. I’ll check some towing services around New Hope, see what I can find out.”

“That sounds good. Let me know how your roommate’s doing when you can.”

“Will do. I’ll talk to you later.” Ben hung up and turned to Gil. “Why are you waving a map of New Jersey at me?”

“Look,” Gil directed impatiently. “When TJ said _cross the river_ , he was stressing those words. And he made you repeat that they had a van, a white van. Now look at the map.”

Ben stared at the map and then looked at Alex, who had pulled up the map on his own phone and was studying it intently. Suddenly Alex looked up and his eyes met Gil’s. “They crossed the river at New Hope,” he said.

Gil nodded. “ _Exactement._ In a white van.”

“How the …?” Ben started, but Alex and Gil ignored him.

“Holy shit,” Alex said, grinning. “TJ has access to the bridge cameras.”

By now every phone was out and they were all tracing the route Nat and Patty had taken. If they had left 95 and driven west, they could have crossed the Delaware from Lambertville, New Jersey, to New Hope, Pennsylvania. Of course all highway bridges had cameras on them, so TJ had been trying to tell them that the white van had been in New Hope shortly before lunch time.

“All right,” John said, “from there they would have headed south on one of these small roads.”

Eliza pointed to the map. “Probably 32. It would be a pretty ride along the river.”

“They were probably planning to get back on 95 just north of Yardley,” Ben said.

“But they didn’t,” Alex continued. “Whatever happened didn’t happen on the interstate with a million witnesses.”

“Don’t say _witnesses_ like that,” Angelica told him. “It makes it sound like there was a crime committed.”

Alex raised his eyebrows at her, but kept talking. “So we have this stretch of 32 from New Hope to Yardley …” He tapped his phone. “It’s only about ten miles.”

Gil grinned at him. “We have narrowed our search area.”

“Yeah. All right, listen. We’re going to be searching all along this ten miles of country road. What are our strategies?”

“If they crossed the river before lunch, they may have eaten somewhere along there,” Eliza said. “We can stop in restaurants and ask.”

“Look for farm stands,” John suggested. “They were going to buy blueberries. Same thing.”

“But we can’t be too obvious,” Angelica reminded them. “We can’t go in with pictures and say ‘Have you seen these people?’”

“Right,” Ben agreed, “more like, ‘My friends really liked this place so we wanted to try it. I think maybe they were here yesterday.’”

“Good,” Alex nodded. “What else? Anything we need to bring with us, plan for?”

“Money,” John said. “No matter what’s going on, if we have plenty of cash, it will make things easier.”

“You mean like for _bribes_?” Eliza asked, appalled.

John put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her forehead. “Yes, sweetheart, bribes. Bad guys do things for money.” He looked at Gil. “Can you get cash?”

“Of course.”

“Okay,” John continued, “we take as much cash as Gil and I can get our hands on, which will be quite a lot, and Angelica and I use our Have IDs.”

Angelica nodded. “I need half an hour for my hair and make-up.”

Alex was staring at John. “What in the world do you have in mind?”

John grabbed a sketchbook and a pencil. “I’ve got plans A, B, and C,” he said. “Here’s Plan A.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We still don't know why the Greaters stopped the van. What might be going on? How's Patty doing? What has John got up his sleeve?  
> All of these questions will be answered eventually, of course, but it will take time. Some things are going to get ugly as tensions between King's government and the Movement rise. Remember, it's always what you don't see coming that gets you.
> 
> Thanks so much for the kudos and your lovely comments. Please tell me what you like, and what you'd like to see more of. I love hearing from you!


	31. A Word of Warning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex, Ben, John, Gil, Angelica, and Eliza visit rural Pennsylvania and find even more reason to hate the Greaters. John and Gil find the simple solution to a complex problem.

They were going to a wedding, so Patty had chosen a cute sundress, pale pink with darker pink swirls and curlicues scattered over it. She was wearing sandals now, but her new white heels were in the van. So was the dark pink shrug that matched the dress. She wished she had it now, but not because the cell was cold – it wasn’t; the air conditioning didn’t seem to work very well. It was because the sundress exposed her bare shoulders and her throat, and it was cut low in the front, and right now the Greater called Troy was staring directly at the edge of the neckline. Patty scrunched farther back on the bunk into the corner, her arms folded tightly across her chest.

“I brought you some breakfast,” Troy said, trying to make his voice sound nice.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Now, you know that’s not true. You didn’t have any dinner last night.” He smiled, and Patty realized he looked like a lizard, his face long and his eyes narrow. She saw that he had blue eyes like Nat. His eyes were nothing like Nat’s.

She felt like she was going to throw up.

He opened the cell door and brought the tray in. “Where’s Nat?” she asked through her teeth.

“Oh, he’s fine,” Troy said, still smiling his lizard-like smile. “He’s not far from here.”

 _Close enough to hear me if I screamed?_ She didn’t say it out loud.

Troy put the pressed-cardboard tray on the steel shelf that was welded to the wall. It held a small box of generic cereal and a cardboard carton of milk, a thin Styrofoam bowl and a flimsy plastic spoon.

She looked past him at the open cell door, and he caught the flicker of her eyes.

“Oh, you couldn’t get out,” he told her. “Even if you got past me, there are three more locked doors – and you wouldn’t get past me.”

Nevertheless, he walked over to the cell door, closed it, and made a show of turning the key in the lock. She was locked in with him now. She made herself as small as she could, her feet tucked up under her, her back wedged into the corner.

He sat down next to her on the bunk, staring at her throat. “You’re a pretty girl,” he said.

She gagged, and clapped her hand over her mouth, swallowing hard, trying to stop her throat from convulsing. The sudden movement made her charm bracelet jingle, and he looked at it, pretending to be interested.

“Your boyfriend give you that?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Come on, now, you’re going to have to talk to me.” He reached out and touched her wrist near the bracelet, and she leapt up, barely making it to the sink in time, retching and bringing up almost nothing but bile, sobbing as she vomited. When she was done, leaning on the edge of the sink and gasping, she rinsed her mouth with cold water and turned around. She knew there were tears on her face, and her nose was running, but she didn’t even have a tissue. They’d taken her purse.

“Please go away,” she said as steadily as she could. _Angelica would yell at him,_ she thought. _Angelica would curse him out, not stand here weak as a rag doll, barely able to stand up._

Troy smiled his lizard smile again, and his tongue darted out to lick his lips. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere for a while,” he told her.

*          *          *          *        *

Once they crossed the Delaware on the same bridge Nat and Patty had used, Alex and Ben stayed on their phones. New Hope was a charming little town, but they had decided that Nat and Patty probably hadn’t eaten lunch there as it would have been too early. John and Gil turned their cars south onto 32, a two-lane road that followed the bends and curves of the Delaware River. They had decided to drive the full ten miles from New Hope to Yardley, surveying the area and looking for likely restaurants or farm stands where Patty and Nat might have stopped. Then they would divide them up and go back over the route, stopping and asking questions. It was a pretty area with very little traffic on this Sunday morning, partly wooded, with scattered farms and old stone houses.  Some of the older homes had been renovated to become shops and restaurants. Most of the cross streets they came to led to new developments, but a few ran west into rural Pennsylvania.

“They’re not going to be in a residential neighborhood,” Alex said. “One good thing is that the white van would be hard to hide. If they’re not somewhere on this road, they’ll be in one of the towns to the west.”

John and Gil stayed with the cars while Alex and Eliza or Ben and Angelica went into the restaurants and chatted about their friends who had been there recently and recommended it.

In the third one, they got a hit. “I think they might have had lunch here yesterday,” Angelica suggested with a smile. “A tall blond guy and a girl with dark hair?”

“Oh, were they driving a white van?” the middle-aged waitress asked. “They were joking about having to use two parking spaces.”

“Yes, that was them,” Angelica responded, her smile still bright. “It’s her work van.”

“They were such a cute couple,” the waitress continued. Her name tag identified her as Bev. “She said they were going to a wedding.”

“Yeah, we couldn’t get to the wedding,” Ben put in. “We’ve been trying to catch up with them, but we keep missing them. There’s something wrong with his phone, I think.”

“Well, and service isn’t always great around here,” Bev said. “The way they were talking, they were going to look around the town a little before getting back on the road. I heard him say something about the book store over on Cooper Street.”

Ben nodded. “Yeah, if there’s a book store in the area, he’ll find it.”

“He seemed like a very intelligent young man. Can you leave me your number, and then if they come back in, I can tell them you’re trying to get in touch.”

Ben thanked her sincerely and gave her a fictitious number. Nat knew how to get in touch with him or Alex or John. That wasn’t the problem. They left the restaurant and told Gil what they’d found out, then called Alex, who was a few miles up the road visiting another restaurant.

“Okay, great, now we know they got that far south,” Alex said. “That means they went off the radar in the six miles between there and Yardley. What time did they leave the restaurant?”

“About twelve forty-five, as near as we can figure,” Ben told him.

“They’d have about another forty, forty-five minutes of drive time to get to the wedding, so they wouldn’t spend much time in the bookstore.” Alex paused and Ben could almost hear him calculating. “How many side roads between there and the 95 onramp?”

“Only two, and one of them just goes into a residential development. The other one goes west.”

“Stay where you are,” Alex directed. “We’ll be there in ten minutes, and then we’ll all take that road west.”

*          *          *          *          *

Troy was still sitting on the bunk, so Patty backed away to the opposite side of the cell. This was obviously a local jail where suspects would be held temporarily. The cell was tiny, and only the front was barred; the other three walls were concrete block. Even pressed against the wall, she was barely out of Troy’s reach.

“Come sit down,” he said in what he must have thought was a friendly voice.

She slid down the wall and sat on the floor, folding her arms again.

“You should eat your breakfast,” he told her.

“When can I leave?” she asked. The stomach acid she had vomited up had burned her throat, and it hurt to talk.

“Well, that’s not for me to say. We’re still investigating.”

It was ridiculous. There was literally nothing for them to investigate.

“Why?” she asked, hating that she was speaking to him, hating him.

He raised his eyebrows at her. “I don’t have any reason to answer your questions.”

She stared at the floor. Her stomach was still roiling, and her head was starting to hurt. If she was with her friends, John would be making her tea while Nat cuddled her and told her she’d feel better soon. Her thoughts brought tears to her eyes again and she blinked them away.

“Come sit over here and maybe I’ll tell you what you want to know,” Troy said.

She tried to think about that logically. Could she bargain with him? One answer and she’d sit next to him, another answer and – what? Let him touch her? Her stomach heaved again, and she knew she needed some water. The sink was between her and the bunk. She stood up carefully and edged over to it while he watched her silently. She turned on the tap, filling her hand under it and then drinking from it three or four times. While she was drying her hand on her skirt, he lunged forward and grabbed her around the waist.

It hurt to scream, but she kept screaming anyway.

*          *          *          *          *

John and Gil drove their cars west along the narrow road, Alex and Ben still staying in contact by phone, Eliza and Angelica watching carefully for any sign of Betsy’s van. Gil was half a mile or so ahead of John as they entered a small town, barely more than a crossroads. This town was a little shabbier than the scenic area along the river. Most of the houses were older, but not in a charming, historical way, just older and not very well maintained. There was a Post Office on the main road marking the town as Danvers, Pennsylvania. A church a block further on was holding their Sunday School Picnic the next Saturday. Gil stopped at a red light and asked, “Left or right?”

“Who knows? This is hopeless.” Ben sounded disheartened.

“Left,” Angelica ordered.

“Why?” Ben asked as Gil made the turn.

Angelica pointed to a sign that said Municipal Offices with an arrow pointing left. Ben shrugged.

A little ahead of them on the right was a group of tidy, fairly new red-brick buildings. The first one had a large sign in front of it that said City Hall at the top and had a list of offices. The second one was the Danvers Public Library. The third was marked Danvers Police Department over the front door. Gil drove past it, and on the far side was a large parking lot. Parked close to the building was a white van. On the side of the van was a bright yellow oval in which was painted _Betsy’s_ in rainbow letters.

“Keep going, keep going,” Angelica directed, but Gil didn’t need to be told. He continued down the road until he knew he was well out of sight of anyone at the police station, while Ben called Alex with the phone on speaker.

“Gil, find a place where we can park both cars and not be noticed,” Alex said. “We’ll keep back until you tell us where you are.”

Gil drove about another two miles until he found a small daycare on a wooded lot, closed on Sunday. There was a board fence around the playground and between that and the trees, no one on the road would see the cars. Gil pulled the Audi in as Ben gave Alex directions.

Ten minutes later, they were all out of the cars reviewing John’s Plan A.

*          *          *          *          *

The Greater who was talking to Nat wasn’t one of the two who had stopped them on the road. He was older and grayer and his uniform had more rows of the flashy gold braid. He had introduced himself as Sergeant Anderson and had started by asking the same questions that Nat had answered the previous day.

_Nathan Hale, New Haven, Connecticut._

_Martha Manning, New York, New York._

_Philadelphia, for a wedding._

_Will Hays and Molly Ludwig._

_It belongs to Elizabeth Ross. Betsy. She buys artisanal ingredients._

_Blueberries, for Betsy’s coffee shop. Scones._

_A wedding. Yes, the wedding present is in the van._

After Nat had answered them all twice, he just stopped. “What’s the point of this?” he asked wearily. “There is literally nothing else I can tell you. You can call Betsy to confirm it. You can call Will and Molly, or if you can’t get hold of them, call Old St. George’s Church in Philly. Somebody there can verify that the wedding was held there yesterday. I can give you the names of other people who were at the wedding.”  He turned away to stare at the wall. He had already counted all the blocks in it.

“That may all be true,” Anderson said. He didn’t sound quite as confident as Troy and Waters had. “When we have information, though, we have to investigate.”

Nat turned slowly back and focused his gaze. “Information?”

Suddenly Anderson looked worried. “I just meant that we’re trying to verify our information.”

“No, you didn’t,” Nat said. “That’s not what you said. Has somebody informed on us? On me? What the fuck is going on?”

Anderson waved his hand dismissively. “You misunderstood me, that’s all. I didn’t say anything about that.”

“Yes, you did,” Nat argued. “You said …”

He stopped when he heard Patty scream.

*          *          *          *          *

Angelica and John had transformed once again into the wealthy, glamorous Allison and Sean Burns. Eliza was touching up Angelica’s make-up, and John was double checking their IDs and counting the cash.

“How much?” Alex asked.

“About ten thousand.”

_“Jesus.”_

John shrugged. “We may not need it all.” He slid the inch-thick stack of hundred-dollar bills into a leather case and gave it to Angelica to put in her purse.

Ben was worried. “You sure you know what you’re doing?”

John grinned. “We know the outline. We’ll have to improvise as we go along, though.” He nudged Angelica. “We can do that, right?”

She wasn’t enjoying this the way John was, but she was ready. “Yeah, we can.”

Gil handed John the keys to the Audi. _“Bon courage, mon frère,”_ he said.

“Yeah, whatever,” John responded. _“No hablo francés.”_ He turned to Alex. “If it goes well, it won’t take too long. More than two hours, come in after us.”

Alex nodded. Plan B involved guns.

John parked Gil’s Audi in front of the police station, and they walked up the three steps to the door. John glanced at Angelica from under his lashes. “You think we look rich and entitled?”

“Oh, yeah,” she told him, her mouth turning up a little. “And bitchy.”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” he declared with a grin and opened the door.

There was no one at the desk in the outer office. There also didn’t seem to be a button to push or a bell to ring, so John rapped sharply on the counter. “Small town, understaffed,” he said quietly. “That’s good.”

Angelica held up her finger. “Sh! Something’s going on.”

There were muffled sounds coming from the back of the building. It sounded like shouting, but they couldn’t make out any words through the thick block walls. Then there was a loud metallic crash, followed by more, louder shouting.

“What the hell?” John asked, his hand going to the back of his waist where his small gun was. He shrugged and walked behind the counter, Angelica following him. There was a door in the back wall that obviously led into the rest of the building. John opened it cautiously, and instantly, the muffled shouting resolved itself into words.

“… your fucking hands off her! I don’t care who you think you know!”

“She was fine with it last night!”

Someone was crying behind the shouting.

“Yo!” John yelled. “We need some help here.”

The shouting stopped, and almost immediately, a gray-haired officer came from around the corner. He was breathing hard and sweating, and his shirt was pulled awry. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” he asked angrily.

John was not intimidated. “My name is Sean Burns, and this is my sister Allison. We came through that door, obviously, since there’s nobody in the office. We’ve been looking everywhere for our sister, and we saw her van in your parking lot. Has there been an accident? We’ve been worried sick.”

The Greater seemed to be trying to pull himself together both physically and mentally. “Your sister?” he asked, stalling for time.

“Yes, my youngest sister Patty. Half-sister, I guess I should say, so her last name is Manning, not Burns, but that doesn’t mean anything. She’s our sister, and she was supposed to be at a wedding yesterday in Philly with her boyfriend, but they never turned up, and nobody’s heard from them. That’s their van outside – well, not theirs, they borrowed it from a friend, but the one they were driving. Please, do you know where they are?” John’s story might have been fiction, but the concern in his voice was real.

“Going to a wedding, you said?” the officer repeated idiotically.

“Where is she?” Angelica demanded urgently. “Is she all right?”

The Greater turned to look at her. He swallowed hard and gave a vague nod. “Uh, yeah, I need to make some calls first.”

“Is she in the hospital?” Angelica asked, her voice rising.

“Oh, no, no, nothing like that. If you could just wait out in the lobby …”

“No,” John refused flatly. “We’re going to stay right here till you tell us where she is. And what about her boyfriend? Is he all right?”

“Um, yes, he’s … maybe I should … but I need to call.” The officer was clearly trying to deal with a situation he couldn’t handle.

“Look,” John said, “if we can help you, we will. We’re really worried about Patty. Is there something we can do?”

The man stood there indecisively for another three minutes, then he said, “All right, come on,” and gestured for them to follow him. They went through two more doors and then into a hallway with small cells on the left side. The Greater unlocked the door to the first one, and as he did, they realized that what had looked like a pile of blankets on the bunk was Patty, curled into a fetal position, under a thin gray blanket, her face covered with her arms. Angelica shoved past and ran to her. As soon as she touched her, Patty cried out and flinched, and Angelica dropped to her knees. “It’s me, sweetie, it’s your big sister. You’re going to be okay.” Patty finally looked up and saw who it was, and she threw herself into Angelica’s arms, sobbing hysterically.

“Who did this to her?” Angelica asked, her voice tight with fury.

John grabbed the Greater by the front of his shirt. “Where’s Nat Hale?”

The police officer seemed unable to talk, but he gestured for John to follow. As they passed the next cell, the occupant of it yelled, “Fuck you, Anderson. You’re through. Your career is over.” He was younger than Anderson, and was also in uniform. John gave him a long look so he’d remember his face. _Looks like a lizard,_ he thought.

Anderson was a few feet ahead of John as unlocked the door of the last cell in the hall. Nat was out the door instantly, and he saw John. “Where’s Patty?” he asked.

“She’s okay,” John lied. “Allison’s with her.”

Nat gave him a quick nod to show he knew which names they were using, then he followed John back down the hall, both of them ignoring Anderson. The Greater in the cell yelled some more as they passed, but Nat was focused on one thing.

Patty was still crying and clinging to Angelica, but when she saw Nat, she went into his arms. He picked her up like she was a baby and held her on his lap as he sat on the narrow bunk.

“I know, I know,” he whispered, stroking her hair. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

John put his arm around Angelica because she was crying too. “Did she tell you?” he asked softly.

Angelica shook her head. “Not yet.”

Sergeant Anderson wandered back into their vicinity, and John stepped in front of him.

“I have to call my Captain,” Anderson said.

“Yeah, you do that,” John told him. “I want to talk to him myself.”

Anderson nodded and went to make the phone call. John took out his phone, but couldn’t get a signal. “I’m going to step outside and call Alex,” he said to Angelica. “We need to get Patty out of here.”

Angelica put her hand on his arm. “Tell Eliza Patty will need clean clothes. And, John, honestly, she’s not up to two or three hours in the car. Can we get a couple of motel rooms close by? She may … she may need a doctor. I don’t know yet.”

John nodded grimly. “We’ll take care of her.”

John gave Alex all the information he had and then went back to find Patty a little calmer. “Can we go?” she asked, her voice shaky. “Can we just get out of here?”

“We’re going to get you out in just a few minutes, baby,” John assured her. “Do we need to take you to a doctor or an ER?”

She shook her head. “He didn’t  …” her voice was a thin whisper, as if it was hard to talk. She swallowed and tried to go on. “He didn’t rape me, but ...” she folded the blanket back, and they saw that the pretty pink dress was in tatters, torn open down the front, most of the skirt ripped completely off. There were bite marks at the base of her throat and down to her breasts, actual teeth marks, purple and swollen. The fingerprint bruises on her shoulders were clearly marked.

“Son of a bitch mother fucking …” Nat began.

John, his face like stone, put his hand on Nat’s shoulder. “You take care of her,” he said. “We’ll take care of him.”

“Patty, sweetie, I think you should get to a doctor,” Angelica murmured.

“No, _please,”_ Patty sobbed. “I just want Nat.”

Angelica didn’t argue, but she whispered to John, “Maybe Gil?”

John nodded shortly, still taking everything in and making plans. He spoke to Nat. “What happened to your face?”

“Pissed somebody off.”

John nodded again. “Let’s get Patty out of here.”

Patty wrapped the blanket around herself. She was barefoot, but Angelica found her sandals on the floor and put them on her feet. She tried to stand up, but her knees buckled and she collapsed onto the bunk. Nat started to pick her up, but John told him not to. “You don’t look any too steady yourself. Ben and Gil and Alex and Eliza are here too. We’ve got it. When did you eat last?”

“Lunch yesterday.”

John turned to Angelica. “They’ll be out front. Get the van keys from that idiot Anderson, and tell Ben he’s driving the van. Send Gil in here, and you go with them. You guys take the van and the Audi, and leave Alex and my car here. We’ll meet you at wherever Alex says. Oh, and for God’s sake, get them some food, some real food, not junk.”

Angelica gave Patty a gentle hug and a kiss on the cheek and left. A few minutes later, Gil came into the hall, accompanied by a heavily gold-braided Greater that John took to be the Captain.

Gil went to Patty and lifted her as easily as if she’d been a two-year-old. _“C’t un salaud qui a fait ça,”_ he murmured. “ _Chut, ma petite,_ don’t be afraid. You are safe now, I promise.” His face was hard with anger as he looked directly at John. “We will talk later, yes?”

“Yes,” John agreed.

The Captain told John he would speak with him in a few minutes, so John walked out to the lobby, where he found Alex waiting. “We’ll see you in a little while,” Alex said to Nat, and then, after the others left, he turned to John. “What the fuck happened?”

“I only know part of it. I still don’t know why they got stopped and held, but I think Nat does. Somebody punched him a couple of times, and then one of the Greaters tried to rape Patty.”

“Jesus fucking _Christ._ ”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So you won’t need that bribe money.”

“No, they might want to pay us to keep quiet about this.”

Alex looked at him quizzically. “Are we going to do that?”

“I don’t know yet,” John told him.

The Captain, whose name was Fewins, came out to shake both their hands. “I am very sorry for the inconvenience that your friends suffered,” he said. “It seems that mistakes were made.”

“Inconvenience? Mistakes were made?” Alex repeated incredulously. “Assault and attempted rape?”

“We do regret that, and the officer involved will be dealt with, I assure you.”

“How?” John asked.

“Well, right now he is suspended from duty pending investigation.”

“Is he still in the cell?” John asked.

“No, that was a temporary measure that Sergeant Anderson undertook because they were the only two on duty here at the station. We are sadly understaffed. Officer Crandall has been sent home.”

“Who will be doing the investigation?” Alex asked.

“We have an officer who handles citizen complaints,” Fewins explained a little defensively.

“Will Patty have to talk to this officer?” John inquired.

“Probably. We do need to know exactly what happened.”

“You saw her.”

“Well, unfortunately, that might not be sufficient.”

John nodded. “Of course, she could file a lawsuit against the department and against Officer Crandall personally.”

Fewins blanched. “I do hope that she won’t choose to do that.”

“I don’t know what she’ll decide to do, and of course, she’ll want to talk to an attorney first. I hope very much, though, that this will not be publicized. My mother’s been through enough, widowed twice, and out of her mind with worry these last few days. She certainly doesn’t want to see this horror story about her youngest daughter in the newspapers. Mother wouldn’t hesitate to file a suit herself for her own pain and suffering.”

“I completely understand,” Fewins said, practically babbling in relief. “We will make sure that none of this reaches the media."

“Thank you,” John said politely, and they left.

A few hours later, they were on the floor of Angelica and Eliza’s hotel room. Gil had rented three adjoining rooms in a luxury hotel just outside Philadelphia. Ben hadn’t stayed, since somebody needed to get the van back to Betsy. The blueberries had to be thrown out, but the wedding present with the hidden sabotage plans was still intact, sitting now on a table in the hotel room. Alex was going to meet Tony in town the next day to hand it over.

Patty had consented to have Gil check her injuries, and he had, very gently, with Nat holding one of Patty’s hands and Angelica the other. Her bruises and abrasions were severe, but there were no deep cuts, and what she needed more than anything was rest and loving care. Gil sent Eliza out to the pharmacy to buy Advil and bandage materials, and he put a butterfly closing on the cut on Nat’s face. Angelica had helped Patty shower, and John had made sure that she and Nat both ate some room-service grilled chicken, and now they were both asleep in the next room.

“Let them sleep as late as they can,” Gil said. “Ben will tell Patty’s mother that there was a minor car accident, and that they are staying with Tony in Philadelphia until they feel better. Patty can tell her mother otherwise if she wants later, but for now, it would not have been good for her to go home before she could rest herself.” His English was failing him as it always did when he was tired. He turned to Alex. _“C’est des saloperies qu’on a vu aujourd’hui.”_

Alex nodded, _“Oui, tu as raison.”_

Gil sighed. “We should sleep now, all of us.”

He, Alex, and John said good night to Eliza and Angelica and went into the room they would share.

“Did Nat tell you anything?” John asked Alex.

“Somebody laid information.”

“On who?”

“On Nat or Patty or the van. No way to know which.”

“The Greaters must have been disappointed.”

Alex nodded, his face shadowed.

“What?” Gil asked.

“Nat heard her screaming,” he said, his voice catching. “He heard her screaming, and he never told them where the plans were.”

*          *          *          *          *

Ten days later Patrol Officer Troy Crandall of the Danvers, Pennsylvania, Police Department was found dead in his front yard. He had been shot near his mailbox, killed by a single bullet to the head from a high-powered rifle.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Route 32 from New Hope to Yardley is accurately described. New Hope really is a lovely town. Old St. George's is a real church in Philadelphia. The town of Danvers, Pennsylvania, however, does not exist.  
> There is no painting or other representation of Nathan Hale, but he is described as being tall, with blue eyes and light blond hair. I've gone with that in this story.  
> I love Gil, but he does use some really bad language in French sometimes. You probably shouldn't quote him to your French teacher. Also, I am not a proponent of vigilante justice, but we all know the Greaters weren't going to do a serious investigation of Troy Crandall.  
> Who might have informed on Nat, Patty, or Betsy? You will find out, but not for a while. Watch for clues.  
> I may not get another chapter up for more than a week, what with real life getting in the way -- I know, right? -- but it's holiday stuff, so I'm determined not to whine.  
> Finally, I love you guys, and I am so grateful for all the nice things you say. Thank you so much for kudos and comments. Please tell me what you think!


	32. You've Got to Fend for Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and Tony speculate on who might have laid information. Patty reaches out for help and heals both physically and emotionally. Nat does some useful research. The Schuylers still haven't decided what to name the baby, but they've ruled out Gertrude. The King government passes more restrictive laws. Alex and Rev. Tim discuss means of resistance. Alex quotes Shakespeare. John might have a new assistant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the last couple of chapters, we all need a break, so I gave Patty and Nat some pleasant (I hope) time alone. Things will get tough again soon, so enjoy the sunshine while you can.

They stayed at the hotel for three days. Early on Monday morning, Alex met Tony at a Starbucks and handed over the wedding present.

“Would’ve been easier if we’d just done this in the first place,” Tony said sarcastically.

“Maybe,” Alex agreed, “but we never know who’s watching. One of the Greaters let something slip to Nat.”

“What?”

“Somebody laid information.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” Alex picked up his coffee and drank some. “We don’t know if it was on one of them or the van, but somebody has reason to be suspicious of us. Honestly, Nat and Patty are less involved than Ben or John or Angelica or me, so why them, I don’t know.”

“Everybody knows you’re all opposed to King, but if they laid information on everybody who marched in a protest, there’d be literally millions. You don’t think it’s somebody in your group, do you?”

Alex took his time tearing open another sugar packet and stirring the sugar into his coffee. “I don’t think so,” he said slowly, “but there’s no way to know for sure. We have some people who show up some of the time and help, but you might say we’ve got an inner circle and an outer circle. You probably do too, right?”

Tony nodded. “But really, who’s to say those ‘outer circle’ people are any less committed?”

“Absolutely right,” Alex agreed. “For example, Betsy isn’t at most meetings but she has a business to run, so that’s perfectly reasonable. I don’t know any way to assure that every person who expresses interest is genuine. At the same time, we need as many people as we can get.”

“Yeah, and I sure as hell don’t want to make everybody suspicious of everybody else. That’s no way to bring about change.”

Alex pushed his hair off his forehead. There were dark circles under his eyes. “I’m not going to tell anybody else that the Greaters were informed, and I hate having to make that decision. That means eight of us know it, and now you, and that may be too many, but the idea of not being able to trust you or Gil or Angelica is too insane to even think about.”

Tony leaned back in his chair and looked over Alex’s shoulder out the window at the bright, warm day. “Well it would be, wouldn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“It almost has to have been somebody you trust.”

“Fuck you, Tony,” Alex said wearily. “Let’s talk about something else. Who’s the hacker genius who’s working with TJ?”

“There’s a hacker genius?”

“Yeah, there is. I’m not going to give you anything specific because you don’t need to know, but TJ was able to tell us something that narrowed our search area by about ninety-nine percent.”

“No shit?”

“I’m serious. We got there less than thirty hours after they’d been stopped. If it had been two or three days …” His face clouded over as he thought about what might have happened if they hadn’t gotten to Nat and Patty when they did.

“And that’s thanks to the hacker genius?”

“Yeah.”

Tony shrugged. “I have no idea who it might be. I’ve met some of TJ’s group, but the only one whose name I remember is Ned Randolph. I think most of them are from Virginia.” He paused and drank some of his coffee. “How are Nat and Patty doing?”

“They were still asleep when I left the hotel. Physically, they’re okay. Emotionally, it may take a while.”

When he got back to the hotel, Nat and Patty were up, drinking tea. John, advised by Herc, had sent Gil and Eliza out to buy them comfortable clothes. “Natural fibers,” Herc had insisted. “Cotton or silk. Don’t you dare put polyester on that poor girl if her body is already hurting.”

Consequently, Patty was wearing soft cotton pajamas and Nat had on a pair of Gil’s well-worn jeans and a tee shirt. John had also directed Eliza to buy a teapot and some “decent” – his word – tea, and had personally taken them down to the hotel kitchen and explained that they were not to send up a cup of tepid water with a tea bag floating in it when he ordered tea for his sister who had been hurt in a car accident. When several of the hotel kitchen workers looked at him in perplexity, he realized they probably didn’t understand English, and explained the whole thing all over again in perfect Puerto Rican-accented Spanish. The result, of course, was that John was now the new best friend of every single one of the hotel employees, and Camila, one of the housekeeping staff, was going to bake _polvorones_ for Patty as soon as she got off her shift.

“Oh, _polvorones,”_ Alex said with enthusiasm.

“They are _not_ for you,” John told him sternly.

“What are they, anyway?” Nat asked.

“Cookies,” John said.

Angelica laughed. “Good luck keeping Alex away from cookies.”

“You can have some, Alex,” Patty said, and Alex had the grace to blush.

“No, really, I was only joking,” he said.

She smiled, but it was only a faint shadow of her usual bright smile. “I owe you at least a few cookies.”

Alex crossed the room and knelt down in front of her, taking her hand. “You owe me nothing, do you understand? _Nothing._ We’re in this together, and we all help one another, no matter what.” He looked over at Angelica. “What was it you said to me the night I got into that thing with Sam Seabury? After it was over and John and Herc finally let me up?”

She smiled. “I said we’ll all always have each other’s backs.”

Camila brought the _polvorones_ that afternoon with a small bouquet of flowers from her garden for _la hermanita_ of the nice young man who spoke such good Spanish. Patty asked her for the recipe, explaining, with John’s help, that she worked in a coffee shop where they did all their own baking. The normal, friendly conversation did Patty as much good as the freshly baked cookies. After Camila left, Gil suggested that Patty should take a nap.

Patty nodded, but stayed where she was, looking down at the floor. “Angelica, could you come with me?” she asked tentatively.

“Of course, whatever you need,” Angelica responded. She put her arm around Patty and helped her into the adjoining room, closing the door behind them.

Patty was stiff and sore, and she walked slowly, leaning a little on Angelica.

“Do you need help with anything?” Angelica asked. “Using the bathroom or brushing your hair or something else?”

“No, not exactly.” Patty looked up and gave her a lopsided smile. “First, I know it’s silly, but I really don’t want to be alone.”

“That’s not silly at all,” Angelica told her warmly. “I wouldn’t want to be alone either if I’d gone through what you have. I’ll stay with you as long as you want.”

“Can I talk to you about some things?”

“Of course you can, but why don’t we get you into bed so you can rest, even if we’re talking. Otherwise Gil will yell at me.”

Patty smiled and let Angelica tuck her in. “I love my mom, you know,” she said, “but Mom has always worked long hours, so I’ve been on my own a lot. I’m kind of used to handling things by myself. Anyway, I don’t think I want to tell her about all this.”

Angelica pulled the desk chair next to the bed and sat down. “That’s fine. You can tell her or not, whatever seems best to you.”

“Mm,” Patty responded, a little hum somewhere between agreement and doubt. “Everybody says if something bad happens to you, you won’t get over it unless you talk about it. Do you think that’s true?”

“I wish I knew. I know sometimes it helps me to talk to my sisters, but everybody’s different.” Angelica was feeling a little bit out of her depth. “I know there are counselors that help people deal with trauma.”

“Yeah, I know. I don’t think I want to talk to a counselor, though.” She was quiet for a while, and Angelica gave her time. After a few minutes, she rolled onto her side so she could see Angelica’s face, wincing at the pain of movement. “Do you think it will be different with Nat now?” she asked.

 _Please let me say the right thing,_ Angelica prayed silently. “Different how?”

Patty bit her lip. “I’m not sure. I’m not even sure if I’m worrying about it myself or if I think it’s something I ought to be worrying about. Do you know what I mean?”

“I think so.” Angelica reached out and took Patty’s hand. “Maybe we’ve all seen too many movies about how someone is assaulted, and they’re traumatized for life. It makes a good script, but I don’t think it’s necessarily true.”

“Yeah.” Patty looked up at the ceiling. “Nat’s the only guy I’ve ever had sex with.”

“Okay.”

“I didn’t tell him. I mean, maybe I should have, but I didn’t want it to get in the way, you know, the big losing-your-virginity thing.”

“Right, I get that.” _Not the way I would have handled it, but everybody’s different._

“We were both pretty clueless, so for all I know, he didn’t have any more experience than I did.”

“You didn’t ask?”

Patty wrinkled her nose. “No. Would you have asked?”

“Oh, honey, I practically have a check list I put guys through,” Angelica declared.

Patty laughed. “You’re not that much older than I am.”

“No, but I started younger.”

“Okay, I’m not going to ask for any details.” Patty’s smile gradually faded. “Anyway, that Greater – he did things that nobody ever did to me before. It hurt, and it was scary, and I’m afraid now that when Nat touches me, I might be scared.” She blew out a breath. “I don’t mean I’m scared of Nat; I could never be scared of him, but what if there’s, I don’t know, some sort of reaction?”

“I think you should tell Nat everything you’ve just told me.”

“Really? Even the part about being a virgin?”

“Especially the part about being a virgin. He might have some things to tell you too.”

Patty turned her head back to look at her. “I always just assumed that a guy would have, you know, been around the block a few times.”

“Been around the block?”

“Isn’t that would people say?”

“Yeah, if they’re forty.”

That made Patty giggle. “I guess maybe I should talk to him about it.”

Angelica nodded. “I think so.” She stood up and looked down at Patty, who was still pale, with dark smudges under her eyes. “You love him, right?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“And I know he loves you, so just talk to each other. Tell him everything. Tell him exactly what that bastard did to you, because I guarantee you, he’s imagining every horrific scenario possible.”

Patty nodded. “I hadn’t really thought of it that way. It was bad, but if I don’t tell him how bad, he may think it was even worse.”

“Exactly. Then when you’ve got all that cleared up, talk about what you’ll do in a week or two. I’m just about positive that once you heal and you’re not in pain anymore, you’ll want to make love with your boyfriend again.”

“Maybe you should get him now before I lose my nerve.”

Angelica sent Nat in and threw herself down on the bed in the next room. “I feel a hundred years old,” she said dramatically.

“You are a lot older than the rest of us,” Alex told her unsympathetically. He was sitting on the floor with John, and the two of them were playing some sort of game on their phones.

Angelica glared at him. “I’m not older than Gil,” she pointed out.

Gil was sprawled on the other bed, reading. He ignored her, so she stretched out and nudged him with her foot.

“I am not going to pay any attention to you, so you are wasting your time,” Gil responded.

“I hate you guys,” she said, sitting up. “Where’s Eliza?”

“We sent her out for food,” John said. “Nice healthy sandwiches and salads. She said she’d get you the turkey and avocado BLT, in case you asked.”

Angelica smiled. “My sister loves me.”

“How’s Patty seem to you?” Alex asked.

“Okay. She wanted to talk about some stuff, but she’s got her head on straight.”

“You think she’ll be okay to go home tomorrow?”

“Maybe? I mean, she’s really tired, and she’s still in pain, but I think she’s also a little apprehensive about seeing her mom. She doesn’t want to tell her what actually happened.”

Alex nodded. “I don’t think she wants her mother to know how deep she is in the Movement.”

“I know how that is. Eliza and I are lying to our parents too. I hate doing it, but they’d go out of their minds with worry, and I don’t want to put them through that. And my dad, at least, would try to stop us, and he couldn’t, and that would just be more of a mess.”

There was a pause in the conversation as there often was when the subject of parents and intact families came up.

“Your mom still doing okay?” John asked.

Angelica smiled. “Yeah, she’s good. The doctor says everything’s fine with three more months to go. They’re very into converting the guest room into a nursery. It’s cute.”

“They still arguing about names? Last we heard, your dad wanted Cordelia or Cornelia or something like that.”

“Yeah, Mom threatened to delete his genealogy files since all our female ancestors had horrible names – well, not really, because Angelica and Elizabeth are family names, and they’re okay.”

“What about Peggy?”

Angelica shrugged. “Her real name is Margarita, so it’s not my favorite, but at least it’s better than Gertrude.”

“Your dad wouldn’t really name an innocent baby Gertrude, would he?” Alex asked.

“No, Mom would never let him.”

“That name is much prettier in French,” Gil said, putting down his tablet and joining the conversation. He pronounced it for them, with a soft G and French vowels.

“Meh,” Angelica responded. “It’s better than in English, but I still don’t love it.”

“Everything sounds better in French,” Gil continued.

“Oh, here we go,” Alex muttered.

 _“Tu n’es pas d’accord?”_ Gil asked him.

“Oh, sure, completely,” Alex agreed. “French is the best language ever.”

_“Tu te moques de moi.”_

“No shit.”

*          *          *          *          *

Two weeks later, Alex showed Patty and Nat the news story from a Philadelphia newspaper about Troy Crandall’s death. There was nothing in the story about his being suspended. Whether that was because Captain Fewins was trying to keep his actions quiet or because he was already back at work, they didn’t know.

Patty sat with Nat on his bed at the apartment he shared with Ben after Alex had left. Her feet were pulled up and her hands around her knees. It was late afternoon, still sunny, but not bright in the bedroom because the single window faced east and was only a few feet away from the neighboring building. Nat had his phone open to the story, and he held it so Patty could read it again.

“He won’t do it to anybody else,” she said.

Nat put down the phone and stroked her back gently. “That’s right.”

She relaxed her hands a little and reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Do you know who did it?”

“I don’t _know_ , but I might have an idea,” Nat told her.

She nodded. “Gil or John, do you think?”

“Maybe, or maybe one of Crazy Tony’s guys...”

“I don’t want to know,” she said. “I mean, I don’t want to know for sure. I don’t want to talk to anybody about it. It’s done, and I’m glad it’s done.” She leaned toward him, and he pulled her in. “Am I a terrible person because I’m glad he’s dead?”

“No. God, no, after what he did to you? Of course not.” He kissed her hair. “I’m glad too, if that means anything. I knew it was going to happen.”

“You knew?”

“John said for me to take care of you and they’d take care of him.”

She smiled. “That sounds like John. John handles things.”

“I’m just glad we’re on the same side because I’d never want to go up against him.”

“You and John will always be on the same side because you’ll both always be on the right side.”

Nat tightened his hold on her. “I hope so. It’s not always easy to see what’s right.”

They sat quietly for a few minutes, her head against his shoulder, and then she finally spoke. “Nat?”

“What?”

“I won’t break.”

He took a deep breath. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” She smiled up at him. Angelica had been right. They had talked it all out over a period of several days, and Nat knew that she would say when she was ready.

He got up and locked the bedroom door, and then came back to her. “I don’t know when Ben will be home.”

“Poor Ben. He didn’t plan on two roommates.” Although she hadn’t exactly moved in, Patty spent about half her nights with Nat.

“Maybe he’ll go live with John and Alex, and we’ll have this place to ourselves,” Nat said.

“That would be nice – not that I don’t love Ben, of course.”

“You love me more, though, right?”

“So much more.” She pulled him down onto the bed with her.

He propped himself up on his elbow so he could see her face. “Look how pretty you are,” he said, outlining her face with his fingertip. He leaned down and kissed her, and he felt her sigh against his mouth. He kissed her jaw and then, cautiously, her throat. There were still faint traces of discoloration where Troy Crandall had attacked her, tearing at her skin with his teeth. Nat moved gently, his lips barely touching her, acutely aware of her breathing. She didn’t flinch, and he put his hand on the top button of her white shirt.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

He kissed her while he was unbuttoning, fumbling a little since he wasn’t looking, but managing to get all of the buttons undone. He helped her out of her shirt and kissed the soft swell just above the edge of her bra. She looked small and fragile to him now in a way she hadn’t before, and the thought crossed his mind that there was no going back. There would never be a time now when Patty hadn’t been attacked, mauled and torn like the prey of a wild animal. There was only going forward, and the farther forward they went, the more Troy Crandall would recede behind them.

That thought helped him keep the anger at bay, and he got rid of his own shirt and unhooked her bra.

She was almost overwhelmed by her need for him in a way she didn’t quite understand. Maybe it was a way to prove to herself that another man touching her, ripping her clothes off and shoving his fingers into her didn’t matter. Maybe it was her body’s response to his loving touch. It didn’t really matter, she decided, and she arched up to him as he started to play with her nipples. She pushed her breast into his mouth, gasping as he sucked it.

“More,” she whispered.

He complied, and she squirmed to get her pants off, kicking them onto the floor. He sucked a little harder and scraped his teeth across her nipple because he knew she liked that, and she began making those whimpering noises that he loved to hear. He threw his jeans on the floor and got on his hands and knees over her. He kissed her stomach and her navel, and felt her tremble. He looked up at her face and saw her eyes wide and dark.

“Tell me what you like,” he said softly. “Tell me what you want.”

“Everything,” she gasped.

There were things they hadn’t done yet, but now she wanted everything, wanted him in every possible way, wanted him over her, around her, in her. He continued the line of kisses farther down, and at the thought of what he was about to do, she spread her legs and pulled her knees up, opening herself to him.

“Girl,” he said, “be patient with me. I’m new at this.”

She gave a laugh that was almost a sob of longing. “Me too. Let’s see what we can do.”

He rubbed her clit just a little with his hand, and then slowly slid his tongue along her opening, back to front. Her whimpers became something like a moan, so he did it again, and she twisted her fingers in his hair, holding onto him. He let his tongue circle softly around her swollen clit as he slid two fingers into her.

“Please, please, please,” she was saying, and he was astonished both at how easy it was to do and how quickly it was pushing her to the edge. He experimented a little, and when she gasped, “Oh, God, _that,_ yes, do that,” he kept going, and within a few minutes, she was shaking, pulling his hair, her hips jerking up, spasm after spasm tightening around his fingers. He took her through it as she let out a long, keening wail that resolved into “Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, oh, God” over and over, and then finally into moans and whimpers. She hadn’t let go of his hair, and she pulled on it to bring his face up to hers so she could kiss him, her tongue everywhere so she could taste herself on him. “Oh, God, Nat,” she gasped, “I never … I didn’t know …”

He kissed her mouth, her throat, her breasts, and she rolled her hips up to make it easy for him. She’d never been wetter, and he went in deep and hard because he was so ready himself, eager to claim his girl back from whatever darkness she had been through. He had no idea if she could come again, and he tried not to go too fast to give her time. He heard her breathing get ragged, and felt her tightening, and then without any self-consciousness at all, she put her hand on herself, rubbing faster and faster as he thrust into her. He’d never seen anything hotter in his life, and it overwhelmed him and swept him away. He could only hope the wave took her with him because he’d lost all control and most of his consciousness, and when it was over, she had her legs wrapped tight around his waist. She slowly ran her fingernails down his back, not enough to scratch, just enough to send a shiver through him.

His breathing finally slowed enough for him to talk. “Jesus, girl,” he panted, “You trying to kill me?” He pulled out gently, got rid of the condom, and lay back down next to her.

“I think we figured some stuff out,” she said.

“You _think?_ ”

“Was that really the first time you …you know?”

“Went down on a girl?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, the very first time.”

“My God, you’re good at that.” She laughed. “You must have serious natural talent.”

“Or an ability to read,” he admitted.

She propped herself up on her elbow. “You _studied?_ ”

He grinned at her. “Doesn’t seem to have done any harm.”

“No. It was … I don’t know, it was like flying. It was … God, it was amazing. You’re amazing.” She snuggled close to him and he put his arm around her. “Did you really look it up?”

“Look, we talked a lot over the last couple of weeks, right? Took Angelica’s advice, no more pretending or not being open with each other.”

“Yeah, it was good advice.”

“It was, but you can’t say it wasn’t awkward telling each other some things we hadn’t been completely truthful about.”

“Okay, true.”

“But it was also helpful to be reminded of what I didn’t know, so I looked some things up.” He smiled, still a little embarrassed.

“I thought King had all the porn sites shut down,” she said.

“He did, but I wasn’t looking for porn,” Nat protested. “I was looking for information.”

She giggled. “You’re such a nerd.”

He put both arms around her and pulled her on top of him. “Yeah, but tell me, girl, did my research pay off?”

She pressed herself to him tightly and kissed him, then laid her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “I think you deserve an A plus,” she said.

*          *          *          *          *

At the beginning of August, President King announced an expansion of the Domestic Conspiracy Act. It was called the Simcoe Amendment, since it had been authored by Senator Greg Simcoe of Connecticut, who pointed out that including only those who occupied the same household in the Domestic Conspiracy Act left, in his words, “gaping holes in our nation’s security.” The Simcoe Amendment introduced the term _seditionist_ for one who was working against the government, and allowed close friends and associates of any seditionist to be charged with aiding and abetting. No evidence would be necessary, since the very fact that a person was friends with a seditionist was proof of guilt.

“Guilt by association,” Alex said. “What’s next? Trial by combat?”

Alex called Pastor Tim, and they organized a march, but marches were getting more and more difficult to implement. Their old trick of “Joanna has the permit” no longer worked. If there was no permit in hand at the starting point, the protestors had to disperse immediately. Since it was virtually impossible to get a permit for anything that wasn’t a pro-King rally, all marches became illegal gatherings. The SPG filed a lawsuit stating that the right of assembly was guaranteed in the First Amendment of the Constitution, but the lawsuit was dismissed by a judge who said simply, “No right is absolute.”

Alex went home fuming, dragging Tim, who had planned to testify as to the peaceful nature of the proposed marches, with him. Danny, the kid who had been grazed by a bullet in the Times Square Riot, had tagged along. Alex had the impression that Tim was something of a father figure to Danny, whose single mom worked long hours to support them.

John was working in his studio, but came out, ink all over his hands, to say hello. “You guys want some ice tea?” he asked, scrubbing his hands at the kitchen sink.

“Yeah, thanks, it’s hot out,” Tim responded.

“Alex says you’re an artist,” Danny said, watching John put ice in the glasses.

“Yeah, I am, so sometimes I make a mess.” John held up his hands, still black under the fingernails.

“What are you working on?” Danny inquired.

John looked questioningly at Alex, who shrugged. “Go ahead. I don’t think we need to worry about him.”

“IDs,” John told him. “The ink is mostly black, but it’s got metallic elements in it to prevent forgery, so I have to mix it myself.”

Danny thought that over and then grinned. “So the metallic elements don’t actually prevent forgery?”

John grinned back. “The government guys aren’t as slick as they think they are.”

“Can I see how you do it?” Danny asked eagerly, standing up.

Tim put a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Hang on, Hotspur,” he cautioned. “John probably doesn’t give tours of his studio.”

“Actually, it’s okay,” John said, at the same time that Alex said, “Hotspur? From _Henry IV_?”

Tim laughed. “Go ahead, then. You drive John crazy while Alex and I talk Shakespeare.”

“We’ll _tell sad stories of the death of kings_ ,” Alex added, “or, better yet, of King.”

Tim smiled but shook his head. “His deposition would be fine. I don’t look for anyone’s death. I do appreciate the pun, though.”

“Well, as I said once before, we may have different means to achieve the same ends.” Alex sipped some tea and shifted in his chair. “Why do you call him Hotspur?”

“All the obvious reasons – like most fifteen-year-old boys, he acts before he thinks, he never goes at anything halfway, and, as young as he is, he’s a man of honor. He won’t lie, at least not to me.”

“High praise indeed,” Alex commented.

“So many kids fall through the cracks, even at the best of times. Danny’s got a lot of potential, so I do what I can to keep him focused.”

“On another topic,” Alex said, “what are your ideas about counteracting the Simcoe Amendment – well, the whole DCA – if we can’t march or demonstrate?”

Tim ticked things off on his fingers. “We’ve got a well-organized letter-writing campaign going. An attorney who’s a member of our church is looking at a legal challenge based on violations of the Fourth and Fifth Amendments. We’re also planning a concert as a fundraiser to help people who’ve been arrested under the DCA or their families. You should come to the concert,” he added as an afterthought.

“We will. I’m glad you’re looking to help families. I’ve heard of some instances where parents have been arrested and little kids are left with no one to look after them.”

“Yeah, we’re aware of a few cases like that, although the ones we know of, relatives have taken the kids in. Still, most of these people are Deplos, and there’s not enough money to feed two or three more mouths.” He paused for a minute, his face shadowed. “Kids shouldn’t suffer to make a political point. Anyway, what about you and your gang here? What are you up to?”

Alex smiled. “Well, like you, we work within the law, writing letters, calling members of Congress, that sort of thing, but we’ve also done several things to … let’s say disrupt the comfortable lives of the Haves here in the city.”

“So that epidemic of leaky roofs in Have neighborhoods might not be coincidence?”

“You may be correct on that.”

“The road crews that tore up the streets in front of the homes of some important Have citizens?”

“Affirmative.”

“Delayed deliveries of all kinds of orders resulting in shortages?”

Alex nodded.

Tim laughed ruefully. “I can’t condone it, but I understand it.”

“Different roads, Rev. Same destination.” He had no intention of telling Tim about the Greaters who had been shot or about Troy Crandall’s execution.

“I know.”

Danny came out of the studio with John, his hands covered with ink. “John showed me how to mix the ink,” he announced enthusiastically. “He says I caught on fast.”

“He did,” John confirmed. “Actually, any time he wants to come over and help out, he’s welcome. I could use an assistant.”

“What do you think, Rev?” Danny asked eagerly.

“I think we’re going to talk to your mom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Polvorones are real traditional Puerto Rican cookies, and they're very good, probably Alex's favorite cookie. Young Danny is Daniel Phoenix, who was a member of the New York Sons of Liberty.  
> Since peaceful demonstrations are now pretty much outlawed, Alex will have to come up with more ways to oppose the government. Is violence an acceptable option? Rev. Tim would say no, but our guys have already been violent. You can probably guess that more danger lies ahead.  
> Thanks so much for leaving kudos and comments. I always love hearing from readers, and I really do like to know what you think will happen. I've gotten some very good plot suggestions from readers in the past!  
> Thanks again, and if I don't post any more this week, which will probably be the case, have a great Thanksgiving (if you're in the US) or just a great week (If you're anywhere else). I have pies to bake, and I only hope they will be as good as John's. <3 <3 <3


	33. The Rabble Who Scream Revolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is some disagreement about the effectiveness of non-violent as opposed to armed resistance. Danny learns to mix ink. John reveals to Alex why he wears his hair long. Alex gets a car. Tim plans a provocative concert that Nat will participate in. Gil smokes a few cigarettes. He and Alex are both uneasy, for good reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for taking so long to post this chapter. It's a nice long one, though, and I'll do my best to get the next one up faster.

The pattern of disruptive sabotage that Alex’s squad had begun was being reproduced in Boston, Philadelphia, and Charleston. Even though the damage done was relatively minor, it seemed to outrage the government that they were unable to stop it. The delivery delays were particularly infuriating because they could be caused by a variety of acts. When an epidemic of slashed tires was foiled by additional police patrols, suppliers got phone calls cancelling orders. When they started requiring code numbers to cancel an order, hackers got into their systems and changed delivery addresses. That was still working pretty well, and the hackers, mostly working with TJ, could take their sabotage nationwide.  The result was sporadic shortages of a number of everyday items like sugar, copy paper, and lightbulbs. Alex did his best to keep a small stash of sugar in the apartment, but sometimes they still ran out. He complained about the lack of sugar, but he never suggested they stop interfering with deliveries.

The government’s reaction to the continual disruptions was to crack down with ever more restrictive laws. Phone licenses became harder to get. Now citizens had to prove a “need” for a phone. College students were permitted to have them to encourage communication with their families – King once again trotted out his “Loving Moms and Dads” to talk about using phones in a positive way. Most business people were allowed to keep their phones, but controls were tightened. Within a week, no one under the age of sixteen could have a mobile phone license. There were dozens of King’s talking heads on TV reminiscing about the supposed good old days when mobile phones didn’t exist. To hear them, you’d think everybody had been happier and better off. They reminded listeners that landline phones were still available, but that was no help to people who had come to depend on mobile phones not only for communication, but for maps, appointment schedules, and news.

“What is the point?” Eliza asked one afternoon. “It’s as if King is trying to infuriate everybody.”

Alex shook his head. “No, he’s going to take away as much as he can, then manipulate people by giving them back some of the rights that they had in the first place. They’ll be so grateful to get a little bit they won’t even notice how much they’ve lost.”

“That’s horrible.”

“Yeah, but it’s not stupid. It’s a technique that’s been used for centuries.” Alex’s jaw was set, and his eyes were dark with anger. “Don’t feed the prisoners of war. Let them go without food for two weeks, then maybe give one of them a piece of bread in exchange for information. It’s torture, of course, and it’s a violation of international law, but it works. King has modified it, but it’s the same pattern.”

“But for what?” Eliza was genuinely baffled. “What does he want?”

“Power,” Ben said. “He wants power for himself and his inner circle – power, money, control of goods and services. It’s a gigantic ego trip.”

“Power corrupts,” Rob reminded them.

“Right,” Ben responded, “and absolute power corrupts absolutely, but King was corrupt before he took office. I think that’s why he went into politics.”

“Because he saw it as a route to absolute power?” Alex asked.

“Yeah. He sees himself as an emperor or something, unrestrained by laws, let alone by a democratic government.”

“But that’s insane,” Eliza said.

“It may be. In fact, he may be pathological, but nobody’s stopping him.”

“We will,” Alex promised, “but it will take a while.”

*          *          *          *          *

Danny had been coming to Alex and John’s apartment a couple of times a week to help John, and he had turned out to be really useful. He also carried messages between Alex and Tim, mostly just memorizing them so there wasn’t even a paper trail. John only had to show him something once or twice for him to catch on, and now he was mixing the ink as well as John could.

“You guys all coming to the concert?” he asked late one afternoon. He and John had printed out a variety of false documents, and they were taking a break, having ice tea with Alex, Ben, Nat and Patty. Patty had brought some day-old scones, but no cupcakes, since they didn’t have much sugar.

“Sure,” Alex said. “Are you in it?”

Danny nodded. “I’m the drummer. Alice plays the piano and Rev is on the guitar. We’re pretty good.”

“What’s on the program for the concert?” Nat asked.

“I think Rev is calling it something like ‘Historical and Patriotic Musical Selections’,” Danny responded. “I mean, it’s a public performance, so we have to get a permit for a gathering.”

“So songs like ‘America the Beautiful,’ that kind of thing?”

“Mm, sort of. That’s not on the program, though.” Danny’s smile was a little too fake-innocent.

Alex narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “So what _is_ on the program?”

“’Go Down, Moses,’ ‘Follow the Drinking Gourd,’ that sort of thing.”

“What else?”

“‘Blowin’ in the Wind’.”

Ben’s eyebrows went up. “Really? Go on.”

Danny’s smile grew into a broad grin. “‘Ohio’.”

Alex choked on his tea. “Oh, shit.”

“It’s great, right? And we’re going to finish with ‘Do You Hear the People Sing?’.”

“And Tim approved all this?”

“Yeah, he’s the one who put the program together. He says all the songs really are either historical or patriotic or both.” Danny frowned, looking around at them. “What?”

Alex and Ben exchanged glances. “The concert will be monitored since it’s a public performance. Tim’s poking the government’s eye with a pretty sharp stick,” Ben said.

Danny shrugged. “Rev’s smart. He knows what he’s doing.”

Alex smiled ruefully. “I’m sure he knows _exactly_ what he’s doing.”

Alex called Tim the next day to discuss the program, while being careful not to mention any of the song titles. Tim blew off his concerns.

“Danny says you know what you’re doing,” Alex told him.

“I do,” Tim replied.

“You know we support your project, right?”

“Yes, don’t forget that I want your _prayers_.” Tim stressed the last word, and Alex correctly interpreted that to mean _not guns_.

“You’ve got our prayers,” Alex said, “and anything else you need.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a tenor, would you?”

“What?”

“One of my tenors has come down with tonsillitis, of all things, and he’s getting the tonsils out next week, so he won’t be singing for a while. He was part of a trio, and right now I’ve got an alto filling in. It sounds okay, but not as good as it did with Zac. Thought maybe you have somebody who could fill in.”

“I doubt it, but I’ll ask around. John sings in the shower sometimes, but I don’t think you want him.” Alex said that because John had just walked into the room, so John grabbed the phone away from him.

“Who is this?” John asked.

“It’s Tim. I’m looking for a tenor to sing in the concert. Alex just said some disparaging things about your singing voice.”

“I heard him. Don’t worry, Rev, I’ll deal with him. Nat said something one time about singing that cappella stuff.”

“A cappella.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Is he a tenor?”

“Not a clue. You got his number?”

“Yeah, thanks, I’ll give him a call.”

“You want to talk to Alex anymore?”

Tim laughed. “No, that’s okay. I’ll see you guys at the concert.”

“Looking forward to it,” John told him and hung up.

Alex had been waiting quite patiently, for him. “Sure, just grab my phone and take over the conversation any time, babe.”

John handed him back the phone, but looked at him seriously. “You don’t like my shower singing?”

“Well …”

“When just last night you were telling me …” John couldn’t keep a straight face as he watched the dark red blush spread from Alex’s neck to his forehead “ … how much you loved the noise I was making in the shower.” He put his arms around Alex and slid his hand up his back to his head to hold him in place, and then he closed the space between them. “I know you could hear me well, because you were _so_ close to me.” He pulled Alex’s mouth to his and sighed contentedly as Alex’s lips parted for him. When they finally separated, he murmured, “Come to bed?”

He led Alex to the bedroom and pulled him in for more kisses, and then down onto the bed.

“I don’t know if this is how we’re going to win the revolution,” Alex murmured, and then gasped as John unzipped his jeans and began to stroke him. “Ah, fuck, John, that feels so good.”

“Can’t win the revolution if we’re not … focused, right? Have to work off the stress.” He whimpered as Alex’s teeth scraped lightly over his collarbone.

“I like it when you make that noise,” Alex whispered. “Do it again.”

“Make me,” John challenged, and Alex did his best, touching and tasting and teasing until he finally had John in his mouth, and John was way past whimpering. He got his hands on Alex and felt his mouth tighten on a moan that made his hips jerk forward.  Alex worked him with his tongue and his lips and his hand, and John did his best to get Alex off at the same time. He almost made it, but, as usual, Alex was impatient and finished first by a few seconds.

“God _damn_ , you’re good,” John said after they’d cleaned up and were just lying in bed together.

“I’m glad you think so,” Alex smiled, winding one of John’s curls around his finger. “Your hair’s so pretty.”

John chuckled. “So I’ve heard.”

“Have you ever worn it short?” Alex asked, still playing with the curls.

A look that he couldn’t identify flickered over John’s face. “Oh, sure,” he said casually. “My dad doesn’t like long hair on boys. Too girly, you know.” He turned to face Alex and gave him a twisted smile. “So I started growing it out when I was about twelve.”

“Did your dad make you get it cut?”

“In a manner of speaking. He took me to the barber shop and tried to make me go in, but I wouldn’t get out of the car, and he wasn’t going to drag me out in a public street. Not good for the image, you know.”

“Checkmate.”

“Nah, stalemate. He had no problem dragging me out of the car when we got home. I was still smaller than him when I was twelve, so he knocked me down and put his knee on my chest and cut my hair off with his hunting knife.”

_“Jesus.”_

John shrugged. “Yeah, well, not that big a deal. Hair grows back.”

Alex stared at him. “And you let it grow out again?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

“Did he …?”

“Sure. Battle of wills, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, but – I mean, why? Why keep putting yourself through that?”

John looked at him sideways from under his lashes. “Prove I was myself, maybe. Prove he couldn’t make me somebody I wasn’t. Set an example for the little kids.”

Alex put his arms around him and held him. “How did you get to be so brave?”

John huffed out a half-laugh against his shoulder. “Maybe just stubborn.”

“Mm-mm. Really brave.”

“Anyway, now I can grow my hair as long as I want.”

“I hope you don’t cut it short,” Alex said softly, then added, “Not that I would tell you how to wear it.”

“I know.” John snuggled in closer so it was easier for Alex to play with his hair. “They tried to make me cut it in boarding school too.”

“School dress code policy or something like that?”

“Not exactly. There were other guys who had long hair, but they thought mine was causing trouble.”

“How could your hair cause trouble?”

Alex was looking down at John’s face now, and he saw the shadow pass over it again. “You remember a while back,” John said, not looking directly at Alex, “remember when you asked me if I’d had sex with a guy before?”

“Yeah, and you told me it was practically a required subject in your boarding school.”

“And you were shocked.”

“I didn’t say that. I didn’t want you to think that.”

John smiled at him. “But you were.”

Alex nodded. “You sounded so … I don’t know, _bitter,_ when you said it.”

“You didn’t ask me about it.”

“As I recall,” Alex said, letting a little sarcasm creep into his voice, “you were not too willing to answer questions about yourself then.”

John smiled up at him. “That could be true. It’s easier now. Not easy, but not impossible.”

“So were you bitter? Is that the right word?”

“Maybe – bitter, angry, resentful, something like that.”

Alex thought for a while, trying to frame a question that he wasn’t sure he should even ask.

“So when you had those ‘required subject’ experiences in boarding school,” Alex began warily, “were any of them against your will?”

“Oh, yeah, pretty much all of them.”

Alex felt like he’d been punched in the gut. His eyes filled with tears, and he gulped a breath. “You were _raped?_ ”

“Yeah.”

Alex pulled him into his arms. “My God, John, how are you even alive?”

“Told you I was stubborn,” John murmured into his neck.

Alex was crying. “How could anybody do that to you? How could anybody hurt you like that?”

John pressed closer, his arms around Alex, his face just above his collarbone. He kissed Alex’s throat softly. “There are bad people, _mi amor_. That’s why I was scared for a long time.”

“Did you report it to the police? Did you tell anybody?”

“I went to the Headmaster.”

“And?”

John made that snuffling laugh noise again. “He said it was because I was too pretty.”

“What the _fuck?_ ”

“I looked too much like a girl, with my long curls and all. I was provoking it.”

“Jesus fucking Christ almighty, I’ll kill that bastard myself.”

“Sh,” John murmured against Alex’s lips. “Not worth it.”

“But how could he …? How could anybody …? Did you go to anybody else?”

“There was nobody else to go to, _querido_.”

“What did you do?”

“Went back to my room. Learned to fight – really fight, so I could hurt people. Learned not to trust anybody but myself.” He paused and reached up to wipe the tears off Alex’s face. “And grew my hair a little longer.”

“Oh, my love,” Alex whispered, tears running down his cheeks faster than John could brush them away. “I’m so, so sorry that you went through that. You never deserved to be treated like that. I wish I could go into your past and take all that hurt away.”

“You did,” John said, and kissed him.

Alex was overwhelmed. “I don’t deserve that. I know there are times I’ve hurt you.”

John wiped away more tears. “But you never meant to – do you understand the difference? There might be times when we hurt each other just because we don’t think or we make a mistake, because we’re only human, you know? But you’ll never hurt me and not care about it. Do you understand what I mean?”

“I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

“I know. I absolutely know that. That’s why what happened before doesn’t matter. The past is past.”

Alex fumbled around on the bedside table for a tissue and blew his nose. He leaned down and kissed John softly. “It’s past, but it’s not gone, _mi amor._ If you ever want to talk …”

“I know.”

Alex waited a few minutes, but John was content just to lie there while Alex stroked his hair.

“You know what?” Alex said, as if he’d just thought of something.

“What?”

“I’m going to grow my hair long too.”

John pushed himself up on his elbow and raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Alex grinned. “Solidarity.”

*          *          *          *          *

Tim’s concert was scheduled for the last Sunday night of August. There was no admission charge, but people were urged to make donations, with all proceeds going to help children whose parents had been arrested. Tim was doing some clever financial maneuvering since regulations prevented donations to adults who had lost income because of what the government called “criminal actions,” but Tim had a lawyer put the money in trust for the current and future children, with three church members serving as trustees.

“Tim’s really smart,” Rob said. “Are you sure we can’t get him to work with us more?”

Alex shook his head. “He’s completely committed to non-violent means of action. He keeps reminding me that it’s worked in the past.”

Gil was sitting across the table at Betsy’s. “It won’t work now,” he declared.

“Why not?” Rob asked.

“In the past, the governments that changed their laws because of nonviolent resistance were essentially democratic governments. That is no longer the case. This government is not interested in the future of the country. Those in power want only to stay in power for as long as possible.”

Rob winced. “You really think it’s that bad?”

“Oh, yes. They are building nothing; they make no plans. They talk only of ‘national security,’ and stupid people think they are safer, but of course that is nonsense. In reality, the government does nothing to protect the people. King uses his position to enrich himself and his friends, so it is the government itself that does the most harm.”

“You’ve got a point,” Alex said. “I never used to feel like I had to look over my shoulder all the time. Now I have to be careful who I’m seen with, or how many people are at an event I’m attending. I have to be sure I have my ID with me all the time because any cop can demand it from me for no reason. With the Smith Act in effect, even criticizing the government can be interpreted as encouraging sedition. Anybody with a brain and an opinion is guilty under those rules.”

Rob nodded. “Yeah, when you put it that way …”

“But even so, Tim will not consider using more, let us say, aggressive means of protest,” Gil said. “I think he is wrong.”

Alex kicked him under the table. “You just like shooting.”

Gil considered for a minute. “Yes, that is true, but shooting is also quite effective.”

Rob choked on his coffee. “You’re not worried about getting arrested, going to prison?”

Gil shrugged. “Maybe a little, but I want this so-called President out of office. _C’est un salaud.”_

“Just be careful where you say that,” Alex reminded him.

“I am,” Gil smiled. “You already know my opinion, and Rob doesn’t understand French.”

“I think I got the gist of it, though,” Rob said drily. He turned to Alex and changed the subject. “Ben and Nat are going back to Connecticut next week, right? Ben says they’re going to route correspondence through me because I’m less likely to fall under suspicion than you are.”

“Yeah, he talked to me about it. It makes sense. That’s why we’re keeping you away from most meetings. It gives you more deniability.”

“I understand. We’re going back to coded paper communication as much as possible, and couriers for things that are really restricted. We can get word to New Haven and Philly and then they can pass it on.”

“That’s the plan,” Alex said. “We won’t use Betsy’s van again for courier duty, though. It seemed like the perfect cover, but something went wrong. John says we need another car, something older and less noticeable than his Acura or Gil’s Audi.”

“He’s probably right,” Rob agreed. “Get some generic used car.”

“I think we’re going to go look on Saturday. John’s the car guy, so I’ll just tag along.”

*          *          *          *          *

“We’re putting this car in your name,” John said.

“But …” Alex started.

“Shut up.”

“No, seriously …”

“Alex, do not argue with me. Your car.”

“But I …”

“You know, if I smack you right here on the car lot, it will cause a problem.”

Alex choked back a laugh. “You wouldn’t smack me.”

“You’re trying to test that, though, aren’t you?”

“But why would you …?”

“Buy you a car?”

“Yeah.”

“Because you don’t have a car.”

“I don’t need a car.”

“Because I have one?”

“Well, yeah.”

“You see where that reasoning is going? You don’t need a car because my car is always available to you.”

Alex stopped and thought about that for a few minutes. “So are you saying you want your car for yourself?”

John smiled. “Yeah, my reason for buying you a car is strictly selfish.”

Alex frowned. “Oh. Seriously, though, why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I don’t care. Do you want my car? You can have my car, and I’ll buy another one for myself.”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant.” Alex waved his hands around. “Jesus, John, you buy cars like I buy chewing gum. Give me some time to adjust.”

“Look, we’re not even getting you a new car. Ben and Rob are right, we need an older, more ordinary car that doesn’t get any attention. Your car will be the designated Deplo car.”

“That would make yours the Hope car and Gil’s the Have?”

“Pretty much. You okay with that?”

“Hey, I’m getting my first car. I’m not complaining.”

“Oh, excuse me,” John said, throwing an arm around his shoulders, “I thought that’s exactly what you were doing.”

Alex looked down and turned red. “I think I was, actually. Should I just stop and say thank you?”

“Well, that would be easier for me, but I know you need to express yourself.”

Alex grinned at him. “I guess I shouldn’t kiss you here, should I?”

John looked over his shoulder at the approaching salesman. “I think that would violate all the new PDA ordinances.”

“Okay,” Alex said. “Wait till we get home, though.”

The salesman introduced himself as Carter and shook their hands heartily. John told him that they were looking for a practical, modestly priced used car for his friend, and that he had come along to help since it was Alex’s first car-buying experience. Alex gave Carter a bright smile and let John do the talking. After looking at a few cars that were definitely too eye-catching for their purpose, John spotted a rather shabby white Kia in a corner of the lot. Carter was clearly disappointed that their aspirations weren’t higher, but the car ran well and had low mileage for its age, and a sale was a sale. John had transferred money to Alex’s account earlier so that Alex could pay for the car himself, and they were back home in a couple of hours.

Alex spun the key ring around on his finger. “I have a car,” he said.

“You can take me for a ride tomorrow,” John told him.

“Concert’s tomorrow. I’ll drive.” They were in the apartment now, so he gave John the promised kiss. _“Gracias, mi amor,”_ he said softly.

 _“Por nada._ Anyway, the car was an investment for the Movement, so it was a practical purchase.”

“Whatever you say,” Alex said, and kissed him again.

*          *          *          *          *

The concert was being held in Tim’s church, a brownstone building that had served a congregation of a few thousand when it was built a century ago. The membership was down to a few hundred, and the building was far bigger than they needed and expensive to maintain, but it was paid for and there was no money for capital investments. It was always a little too warm in the summer and a little too cold in the winter, but they managed with erratic donations and hours of volunteer labor.

The concert had been widely publicized for the last few weeks and the church was almost full. Every member of the Movement had shown up, even Betsy, who always closed the coffee shop on Sunday evenings. They took their seats as near to the front as they could, trying to get comfortable on the long polished wooden pews. Nat was already backstage because, as it turned out, he was a tenor, and Tim had pressed him into service for the trio singing “Blowin’ in the Wind.”

“You didn’t know Nat sang?” Ben asked in surprise while they waited for the concert to begin.

Alex shook his head. “He never mentioned it.”

“He was in some musicals and that sort of thing in high school,” Ben told them.

“I knew,” Patty said, smiling, “but I probably know him better than you do.”

“Let’s hope,” Angelica murmured to Eliza, who smacked her sister’s arm.

“Does he sing to you?” John asked Patty teasingly.

“Sometimes,” she admitted, blushing a little.

“That’s cute,” Eliza said, keeping her hand on Angelica’s arm.

“He’s a little nervous,” Patty went on. “I mean, he’s sung in front of an audience before, but not necessarily in front of all his friends.”

“We’ll be nice,” John promised. “Anyway, I’d never have the nerve to get up and sing in front of people, so good for him.”

Tim came out then and gave his welcome speech, reminding the audience that there were offering boxes near all the doors where they could make their donations, and that the money would go to needy children. He talked a little bit about the history of music as an instrument of social change, making Alex look uneasily around the room for any signs of Greaters who might find even the mention of social change a symptom of sedition, but the audience seemed to be made up of ordinary citizens, there to enjoy the concert and do a good deed.

Since the chronic shortage of copy paper meant there were no programs and Tim had to step into his role as guitar accompanist, a teenage girl named Mary introduced each song. The first three, “Go Down, Moses,” “Follow the Drinking Gourd,” and “Michael, Row the Boat Ashore,” were nearly two centuries old, and were thought by many to be coded messages to help escaping slaves. They were sung beautifully by the full church choir.

The next three, which dated from the Civil Rights era, were “We Shall Overcome,” performed by a male chorus, “Blowin’ in the Wind,” sung by a trio which featured special guest Nathan Hale, Mary said, and “Ain’t Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me Around.” The last one was sung by a women’s chorus, and it was customary with that song to substitute other words or names for the word _nobody_ as the verse was repeated. Alex was hopeful that they would stick to something generic like _evil people_ , and they did at first, but then a woman with a powerful contralto sang _Commissioner Howe_ , and the rest of the chorus followed her while the audience whooped and applauded. She carried on with _those dirty Greaters,_ and finally _President King_. When they finished, the audience jumped to their feet, stomping and clapping.

“Make sure you know where all our people are,” Alex whispered to Ben, as they broke for intermission. “Make sure everybody’s got an exit plan.” They quietly got the word out to all the Movement members and as many others as they could – know where the nearest door is. Know how you’re going to get home. So far, everything was going well, but Tim was deliberately provoking the community.

“I am going to go outside for a cigarette,” Gil said to Alex.

“What the hell?” Alex asked. “You don’t smoke.”

_“En principe, non, mais il me faut une excuse pour me promener dehors.”_

“Okay,” Alex nodded. “Have you got a cigarette, at least?”

Gil showed him the pack of Marlboros and lighter in his hand.

“How …?”

“Danny.”

“Of course. I’ll stand near the back and you can report when you come in, just in case there’s anything we need to do.”

Gil nodded briefly and took off, while Alex, Ben, and Angelica checked on everyone else. Patty was supposed to meet Nat after the show because he was needed for the finale, which included everyone who had sung in the concert.

“Where are you supposed to meet him?” Angelica asked her.

“He just said to come backstage.”

“Text him now and set up a definite spot so you’re not wandering around looking for each other.”

“I don’t have a phone, remember?” Patty was not enrolled in school and wasn’t a business owner or manager, so she had lost her phone license.

“Oh, fuck this shit,” Angelica snapped, and handed Patty her phone. “Use mine.”

“Are we expecting trouble?” Patty asked.

“Maybe. Everything seems fine, but Alex is worried, and he wants to be sure we know where everybody is.”

Patty nodded, and sent her text to Nat, and they arranged to meet by the stained glass window with the Easter lilies on it as soon as the concert was over.

“I bet these windows are pretty in the daytime,” Patty said, “with the sunlight coming in. Maybe we should come to church here sometime.”

“Yeah,” Angelica agreed absently and went on checking that everyone had already made their donations and had all their personal belongings in hand so they could get out quickly. By then intermission was almost over, and the audience was returning to their seats. Alex lingered near the back door, and Gil came in and stood close behind him. Alex could smell the cigarette smoke on him.

 _“Je n’ai rien trouvé,”_ Gil said quietly.

“Nothing at all?”

“No, only …”

“What?”

“It is too quiet. It makes the hair on my neck stand up, you know?”

“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean. I feel it too.”

“And yet, I saw nothing.”

“All right. Let’s not panic unnecessarily. Did you talk to Deb?”

“Yes, she knows to leave immediately, no matter what I do.”

Alex nodded. “Do you and John have a plan?”

“Oh, yes.”

“I swear to God, you two are going to give me gray hair.”

“Probably. We should go sit down now.”

They returned to their seats, Alex wondering where the hell they could have hidden the guns.

The opening song of the second part of the concert was “Ohio,” a brutally honest ballad about the shooting of innocent protestors. The repeated line _Four dead in Ohio_ had Alex looking around anxiously, but all seemed normal.

Mary introduced the next two numbers as patriotic songs from early in the country’s history, the well-known marching song “Yankee Doodle,” which everybody enjoyed, and “The Battle Cry of Freedom.” When the men’s chorus came out to sing the second one, they were marching, and as they reached the line, _We’ll rally round the flag, boys_ , they raised a thirteen-star colonial flag and actually marched down one side aisle, across the back, and up the other side, waving the flag, the audience joining in on _Hurrah, boys, hurrah!_ When they reached the stage, they joined with all the other singers who had performed in the concert for the finale, “Do You Hear the People Sing” from the Broadway musical _Les Misérables,_ waving the colonial flag instead of the French flag. When they came to the last verse, Alex realized that someone had rewritten it as the chorus sang

_Will you give all you can give_

_So that our action may succeed?_

_Some will fall and some will live;_

_Will you be brave enough to bleed?_

_We’ll march and we’ll fight_

_Until all of our people are freed!_

By now, everyone was on their feet, singing along, cheering, some of them jumping up to stand on the pews and raise fists in the air.

It was so loud that the noise almost drowned out the first shots.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some of this reads like Comparative Government 101, but I had to get that stuff in. I also felt it was time for John to reveal more of his backstory. It will be a long time before we know the truth about all of John's past, but he can only tell it little by little.  
> I spent a lot of time -- probably way too much time -- on the concert program, but all the songs were chosen for a particular point. They're now a playlist in my phone, and I'm with Alex, that line "Four dead in Ohio" gets me every time. If you want to know more about why Tim chose them, they're all available online, most of them in several versions. You can download them, and we'll all have the same playlist!  
> I know you may find the end of this chapter frustrating or even upsetting. I'll try to get the next one up soon.  
> Thank you so much for kudos and comments. I love hearing from you, and your comments are really helpful. As I've said before, I have a story outline, but there's room for flexibility, so knowing what you like to read helps me with the details. <3 <3 <3


	34. Chaos and Bloodshed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim's church is under attack. Not everyone will survive. Tim, Alex, John, Gil, and Danny, among others, must find a way to reconcile what they believe with actions they take. Alex recalls some old Bible stories he learned as a child. John talks about history. Gil recognizes a significant name. Danny becomes a full participant in the Movement.

Almost instantaneously, the cheering turned to screaming, with shouts of “Get down!” and “Gun!” Alex shoved Eliza to the floor, and looked for John, only to see him pulling a rifle out from under the pew. He had no time to react before the Easter lily stained-glass window exploded into pieces, blasting shards of lethally-sharp colored glass into the crowd.

“Want a gun?” John yelled at him.

“Fuck, yeah.”

John tossed him the rifle and grabbed another one, and as Alex ran to the empty window frame, he saw Gil, Herc, Angelica, and Johan, all armed, positioning themselves at doors and windows. Danny was next to John, pulling more guns out from wherever it was they had been hidden, handing them to Ben, Deb, Joe, and anybody else who wanted one.

“Cut the lights!” he yelled, realizing that from the outside, they all stood silhouetted in the glare of the interior lights. Someone heard him, and the lights went out, but the dimness only added to the terror and confusion inside the church.

Tim and Alice were trying to get all the children into the center of the room, away from the doors and windows, and under the pews, but sobbing children were clinging to their mothers and parents were refusing to let them go. The shots were coming from outside, it was clear, and another window shattered into deadly fragments. One of them hit Alice in the face, but she kept trying to pull the children to safety, blood pouring down her cheek and onto her neck, soaking her white blouse. Except for wiping the blood out of her eye, she ignored it, pushing children and their mothers to the floor and under the pews. Choir members who had been on stage a minute before were down in the main part of the church, and Alex heard Nat yell, “Give me a fucking gun!”

He couldn’t see Patty or Eliza, and he hoped fervently that they were on the floor. He positioned himself at the window, firing at flashes that came from behind parked cars and from the hedge across the street. There was a haze of smoke everywhere, inside and outside, and the interior of the church stank of gunpowder, blood, and shit because children – not only children – were losing control of their bowels in terror. The screaming hadn’t stopped, and he had no way of knowing who was screaming in fear and who in pain from injuries. After what seemed like hours but was probably only about ten minutes, the gunfire slowed, and he heard the wail of sirens in the distance. Police? Ambulances? He tried to look around the room to assess injuries, but he couldn’t see more than a few feet. The sirens got louder and he saw the glimmer of flashing red and blue lights at the end of the street, and he ran for the front door.

John grabbed him and yanked him off his feet and to the ground. “Stay away from the door,” he yelled, holding Alex down.

“Fuck you! We need ambulances!” Alex yelled at him.

John’s face went still and he looked away for an instant, then, his voice between fury and heartbreak, “They’re not coming to help us.”

He let go, and Alex jumped up, running to a window. He saw the police cars pulling up to the curb to let the shooters get in, then racing away. Within a few minutes, they were gone. The gunfire was over, but the wails and cries inside the church continued

“Secure weapons,” Ben ordered, and people began handing him guns. John went to help him.

Gil jumped up onto the stage. “Anybody injured, come up here,” he shouted. “Angelica, triage.”

Angelica gave a brief nod, and handed off her gun to Ben. Bleeding, weeping people began to make their way to the front of the church, leaning on one another, carrying sobbing children.

“We’re going to need cars to take the injured to hospitals,” Herc announced from the right aisle near the back of the church. “If you can do that, come over here so we can coordinate.” Patty, uninjured but white as a sheet, had found some paper and a pen, and was writing down the names of those who had vehicles and could drive.

Alex looked around for Tim and saw him lift a woman from the floor, her body completely limp. Alex handed his gun to Ben and went to Tim. There was no doubt the woman was dead. She’d taken a bullet to the chest, and she had bled out in minutes. Tim stood holding her, tears streaming down his cheeks as his eyes met Alex’s. “Her name is Julia,” he said. “She taught our third-grade Sunday school class.”

He laid Julia’s body gently on one of the pews and stood staring down at her. Alex put his hand on his shoulder. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s see what we can do to help.”

Tim nodded mechanically, and they did their best to speak to everyone in the church, checking for injuries, making sure they had transportation home, making calls to family members, to employers, to funeral homes. Tim prayed with each person he spoke to, and Alex, who hadn’t been to church in years, found himself dredging up long-ago-memorized Bible verses, holding hands and doing his best, even if the only sincere prayer he could manage was a silent, _Please don’t let me fuck this up, God._

When most of the uninjured had been dealt with, Alex made his way to where Gil and Angelica were doing their best to assist the injured. Several people had already been transported to hospitals, but they were trying to avoid that unless it was absolutely necessary. Danny had remembered there was a First Aid kit in the church office, but those supplies were gone in minutes, so Gil had sent Johan out to the nearest pharmacy for bandages, adhesive tape, and tweezers. Now he was using those tweezers to pull tiny slivers of glass out of the arm of a five-year-old, talking to her softly the whole time.

“You are the bravest girl in the world,” Alex heard him murmur. “I think you are even braver than Jeanne d’Arc. She was a girl from my country who was so brave she led the whole army, but she never had to hold still while somebody pulled glass out of her arm. I think you will get a medal for your bravery.”

Alex realized with an enormous wave of relief that Eliza was kneeling next to Gil, handing him whatever he needed and making notes.

“This is my friend Eliza,” Gil continued, “and she will write down your name so that we know where to send the medal.”

“What’s your name, sweetie?” Eliza asked, leaning in.

“Ruby Grace Carpenter,” said the child. “Where’s my mommy?”

“I’m going to find out for you,” Eliza told her, looking around for someone who might know.

“Mrs. Carpenter had to go to the hospital,” Danny responded. “She was the one who was shot in the shoulder.”

“Can you check with Patty, see which hospital she went to? Maybe see if we can get any information.”

“Sure.”

By the time Ben and John came back from wherever they had taken the guns, Alex was able to tell them the full extent of the attack.

“Nine dead so far,” he told them, “at least forty injured, probably more. Some of the people just left, went straight home or to the hospital on their own. We sent sixteen to hospitals from here, to as many different hospitals as possible, and Herc and Johan were trying to tell them not to be truthful about what had happened. Some of them have bullets in them, though, so cover stories are harder.” He looked at John. “Deb’s one of them. She’s got a bullet in her thigh, near the bone, Gil thought. She was in terrible pain.”

“How’s Gil?” John asked.

Alex blew out a breath. “Gil’s made of ice,” he said. “He wouldn’t go with her, just said he was needed here. He’s been over there bandaging, taping, and singing lullabies to little kids.”

John gave him a faint smile. “He’ll cave later. You know it’s not ice.”

“Yeah. I just … he’s so calm.”

“He’ll be a hell of a surgeon.” John looked to the front of the church, where Gil was giving his full attention to an elderly man whose shirt was stained with blood.

“Have you talked to Tim?” Ben asked.

“A little. He’s shattered – nine people dead in his church, six of them his church members, people he knew well, a lot more hurt. I think what was hardest, though, was knowing it would have been a massacre if we hadn’t brought guns. He was trying to deal with being both furious with us for doing it and grateful that we saved lives.”

“It was intended to be a massacre,” Ben said, the rage in his voice barely held in check. “They knew who would be here. They wanted to take Tim and his group out, wanted to take us out, so they surrounded the church and ambushed us.”

“Did we hit anybody out there?” Alex asked. “I couldn’t see a goddam thing.”

“I hope so.” Ben stood there and surveyed the room, the blood-soaked floor, the shattered glass everywhere, two huge windows completely gone. “We need to board up those windows,” he said.

Alex nodded. “You know where we can get plywood?”

“Any big box home improvement store, but we’ll need four sheets. Those windows are fifteen feet tall. Anybody we know have a pickup truck?”

“No, but if Betsy’s still here, we can probably use her van.”

They found Betsy – well, Danny found her, because he seemed to know every corner of the church – in the small kitchenette next to Tim’s office, making coffee and tea and handing it out. She gladly turned over the keys to her van. “I’ll be here for a while,” she said. “There are a couple of brooms in that closet over there, so we can sweep up the broken glass.”

Nat drove the van, and Ben and Herc went with him to get plywood and whatever tools they might need with a fistful of John’s cash. Alex and Johan got to work with the brooms. John was sitting talking with the people who were still there, those with minor injuries or waiting for rides home, listening to their stories, holding their hands, and hugging them. Friends and family members began to show up. Little Ruby’s grandmother came and told Gil she’d already been to the hospital to check on Ruby’s mother, and she was going to be fine. She took Ruby by the hand and said, “You’re going to have a sleepover at Nana’s house tonight.” Ruby smiled up at her, and as they walked toward the door, Alex heard the little girl say, “I’m going to get a medal for being brave.” It was more than he could bear at that moment, and he dropped down in one of the pews, his face in his hands.

John found him there. “Hey,” he said, rubbing circles on Alex’s back. “You okay?”

Alex looked at him, his face shadowed. “Why didn’t you tell me about the guns?”

“You would have told us not to do it. Tim had said no guns, and you wouldn’t have gone against him in his own church.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t. He wanted nothing to do with guns, and you didn’t honor his beliefs.”

“You’re absolutely right,” John agreed, “but we’re alive, and most of the people who were here are alive. I think that’s better than being dead.”

“You didn’t ask me. You didn’t ask Tim.”

“Damn right we didn’t.” John put his arms around Alex. “We knew exactly what we were doing. If we’d asked, you would have been honor-bound to forbid it.”

“So you acted on your own authority?”

John pulled back a little and looked at Alex directly.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t know,” he said softly, no blame in his voice. “You may not have known the details, but you knew Gil and I would never come here unarmed.”

Alex chewed on his lip and nodded. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” he whispered.

John stroked his cheek gently. “You can. You will. You’ve never given up on anything in your life.”

Alex closed his eyes, fighting tears, as he heard the echo of his mother’s voice in John’s words. _You can do anything you set your mind to, mijo. You never give up.”_

He blinked and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I trust you and Gil,” he said unnecessarily.

“I know.”

“You saved us all.”

John’s face darkened. “There were nine people we didn’t save. We’ll have to find out about their families, see what we can do for them.”

“Yeah.” Of course John would think of that.

Alex stood up and grabbed the broom that he had left leaning against the wall. “I need to sweep up the rest of this glass.”

A couple of hours later, the only ones left in the church were a handful of Movement members, Tim, and Danny. Herc, Ben, and Nat had nailed sheets of plywood over the gaping holes where the beautiful windows had been. The broken glass had been swept up and disposed of. Herc had had the good sense to buy an industrial size container of disinfectant cleaning solution and some scrub brushes at the home improvement store, so once the glass was cleared, they had gone to work scrubbing the blood off the old wooden floor. Tim had been overwhelmed.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said over and over through tears.

John finally put down his scrub brush and pulled Tim away through the small door behind the altar that he knew led to the office and housekeeping area. He pushed him into a chair in what must once have been the pastor’s sitting room. The furniture looked like it was probably as old as the church, the upholstery faded and threadbare. John took a seat across from him, and Tim sat looking baffled and exhausted, waiting for John to speak.

“I want you to know,” John said, “it was my idea to bring in the guns, not Alex’s.”

Tim nodded.

“We knew you didn’t want them. We all understand that you’re opposed to violence.”

“I th… I thought.” Tim stuttered as though he couldn’t get his voice to work. “I thought we could do this peacefully. Like in the old days, when my great-grandfather marched.”

“Yeah, that would be good, but you know, that was the end of the struggle.”

“What do you mean?”

John shifted in his seat, leaning forward. “I’m no history expert, but long before the Civil Rights movement, there was a bloody war fought over freedom, and then there were decades of segregation, Jim Crow, and lynchings. It was only after all that, when it got down to the work of lawyers and politicians rather than soldiers, that non-violence became effective. And even then, a lot of people died.”

“Four little girls in a church,” Tim murmured. He rubbed his eyes, his face almost gray with exhaustion.

“Yeah.”

“What do I do now?”

“What you’ve been doing. I’m not telling you to get a gun, but I will promise you that people with guns will have your back.”

Tim looked up at him and nodded, understanding.

John held out his hand. “What was it they sang tonight? _Keep on walking, keep on talking, gonna build a brand new world.”_

“ _Ain’t gonna let nobody turn me around,”_ Tim said, gripping John’s hand.

“You should get some sleep,” John told him.

“I will. I want to go back into the sanctuary and say something, though.”

They walked slowly back to the main part of the church, which now smelled strongly of disinfectant. Danny was collecting the mops and brushes to take to the broom closet.

Tim sat down on the top step of the three that led up to the stage. “Come on up front and sit down for a minute,” he said.

As they came forward, Tim looked around his church sanctuary. Plywood covered the gaps where the windows had been shot out, and there were bullet holes in some of the pews. Although the floor had been scrubbed, faint dark stains remained.

“We’ll have worship here on Sunday,” he said, half to himself. He bowed his head for a minute, then spoke to them. “I don’t want guns in my church. If you hadn’t brought them, hidden them here ahead of time, we would probably all be dead. Both of those things are true, and I don’t know how to get my head around that. I still don’t want anything to do with guns, but a couple of things John just said to me made me realize that we are at war. I’m going to keep thinking about this and praying about it. I don’t know if I’ll ever figure it out or not. Here’s what I do know, though. We’re going to hold a worship service here next Sunday at eleven o’clock, just like we do every Sunday, and I’d like to invite you all to come.” He gave them a faint smile. “If you bring side arms, I promise I’ll look the other way, but please don’t tape an arsenal to the bottoms of the pews again.” Alex started to protest, but Tim shook his head. “They won’t try it again. After tonight, they know we may shoot back.” He paused for a full minute. “Thank you for all the lives you saved tonight. Go home now and get some rest.”

Tim walked them out, and Alex stopped at the curb, turned around to look at the church. Above the door, faintly illuminated by the outside light, he saw words carved in the arch. He took a few steps closer to read them.

“Church of Saint Dismas?” he asked, frowning. “Who’s Saint Dismas?”

Tim smiled. “He’s not as well-known as Peter and Paul, for sure. In fact, his name isn’t even in the Bible. He’s usually called the Good Thief.”

Alex recognized that reference. “The one who was crucified next to Jesus?”

Tim nodded. “He asked for forgiveness.”

“So your church is named for a thief?”

“A repentant thief.”

Alex smiled. “I like that. What’s he the patron saint of?”

“Thieves, criminals, those who struggle with asking for forgiveness.”

“Damn, I should get to know him.”

Tim held out his arms. “Alex,” he said.

Alex hugged him back. “What?”

“God and Saint Dismas bless you.”

*          *          *          *          *

Monday afternoon all of the Movement members were in Betsy’s back room except Rob, whose cover kept him away from meetings, and Deb, who was still in the hospital. By sheer luck, the bullet that struck her thigh had hit neither the femoral artery nor the femur, but had lodged in the muscle between them. It had required some tricky surgery to get it out and repair the muscle and tendon damage, so she would be in the hospital for another day and then restricted from walking for a few weeks. Gil had been to see her, and he reported that she was fine, just frustrated by the prospect of having to use a wheelchair to get around campus.

“We’ll take turns pushing her,” Eliza said.

“I told her.” Gil smiled, then his face turned serious. “It is not a minor injury. A few millimeters more, and she might well have died; a torn femoral artery is often fatal.”

“But Deb’s going to be okay,” Eliza reminded him.

“Yes. Nine people were not as lucky.”

They knew a little more now about those who had died. In addition to the Sunday school teacher Julia, the church had lost a soprano and a baritone from the choir and the chairman of the finance committee. Two other members of the congregation had also died. The three fatalities who were not from the church included the uncle of the alto who had sung in the trio with Nat and two community residents who had just come to enjoy the concert. The youngest person injured had been Ruby Carpenter. The oldest was Ernie Weathers, who had been a member of the Church of Saint Dismas for sixty-five years, since he was thirteen.

“Mr. Weathers was friends with my great-grandpa when they were kids,” Danny said from his place on the floor. He had told John last night that he considered himself a member of the Movement now and he planned to take part in all meetings and activities. He hadn’t yet convinced either John or Gil to teach him how to handle a gun, but he was making progress. “He’s going to be okay, but he lives alone, so I’m going to check on him every day. I’m fixing him dinner tonight because he got hit in the right arm.”

“You cook?” Alex asked.

“I can make a sandwich.”

“You know, that’s something we should think about,” John said. “Some of the people who got hurt are going to need help. We’ll help Deb get around, and Danny will make sandwiches for Mr. Weathers, but what about the other ones? And what about the families of the ones who died? We need to follow up.”

There was general agreement, and Danny volunteered to get the contact information from Tim.

“Also,” Gil put in, “we need to get a medal for bravery for Ruby. I promised.”

“I can take care of that,” Herc said. “I’ve got some friends in metal arts who can make one with her name on it.”

Gil smiled. “Thank you. It will mean a lot.”

“You can’t go back on a promise to a kid,” Herc agreed.

“Everything okay between you and Tim?” Alex asked Danny.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Does he know you’re the one who let John and Gil in to hide the guns?”

Danny snorted. “It was a pretty short list of suspects.”

“He wasn’t mad at you?” John asked, a little anxiously. He was sitting on the floor too, as usual, and he watched Danny’s face.

“Nah, more … sad, I guess. He wants a world without violence, you know.”

“Don’t we all,” Angelica remarked.

“We’re not there yet,” Danny went on, “but that doesn’t mean it’s not a goal.”

“How old are you again?” Alex asked, his eyebrow up.

“Fifteen.”

“I wasn’t that smart when I was fifteen.”

Danny gave Alex a sly smile. “I read a lot,” he said kindly. “You can borrow my books if you want.”

John shouted with laughter. “Ha! Burned!”

“I want to shake the hand of anybody who can out-smartass Alex Hamilton,” Angelica declared, reaching over John. Danny shook her hand, grinning over his shoulder at Alex.

“You planning on college, Danny?” Ben asked. “If you are, I can talk to some people at Yale.”

“No way,” Alex protested. “This boy’s going to Columbia.”

“Hell, yeah, I’m going to college,” Danny responded, “but I was looking at Harvard.”

“Burned again,” John said, keeping tally with his finger on an imaginary chalkboard.

Patty held out a plate of scones. “Here, Danny, have another scone before you start a fight.”

Danny took a scone, thanking Patty politely, and Alex brought everybody’s attention back to business. “We have to think about cancelling public activities until …” he hesitated when his phone chimed at the same time as Ben’s, John’s, Herc’s and Angelica’s. “Shit,” he muttered, looking at the screen. The text was from Rob. _Turn on the news._ He read it aloud, and they all opened their phones to a “breaking story” about a church shooting.

“Took nearly twenty-four hours to break,” Herc muttered.

According to the story, a single deranged gunman had entered the Church of Saint Dismas while the choir was giving a concert of sacred music. Before he was stopped by the heroic action of police officer Malcolm McMartin, the gunman, whose name was being withheld for reasons of national security, had killed at least twenty people and wounded many others. He was now in custody and would be dealt with. The Reverend Timothy Dwight, pastor of Saint Dismas, was unavailable for comment as he was tending to the needs of his distraught congregation.

Alex called Tim immediately. Tim hadn’t seen the news story and he certainly hadn’t spoken to anyone from the media. He was, in fact, at the home of Titus Dawkins, the choir baritone, helping the family make funeral arrangements. “I’ll get back to you later,” he said quietly to Alex, “but I’m not talking to anybody about what happened.”

“So they just made it all up?” Nat asked incredulously when Alex told them what Tim had said.

“Yeah, made up a story to suit their ends. How much you want to bet when they release the name of the ‘deranged gunman,’ it’ll be something like Juan Martinez or Hassan Ahmed, and he’ll be an illegal immigrant?”

“They got Tim’s name right,” Eliza pointed out.

Alex shrugged. “That would be on the phone registration or in a city directory. Everything else they made up. Overestimated their numbers, too. They might be trying to bait us to call and correct the story.”

“We won’t, will we?” Ben asked.

“Oh, hell, no.”

Gil was frowning at his phone. “The so-called heroic police officer, Malcolm McMartin. We have met him before.”

Alex looked at him. “We have?”

“Yes, remember, when we had our first march? He was the one who hassled us about the signs. I took a picture of his badge.”

“Oh, right, I remember now. What did you do with the picture, anyway?”

“I sent it to Monsieur Gérard at the Embassy. He has many friends among the higher ranking city police officers, the ones who were here before King ordered this expansion that has brought in so many unqualified people.”

“So Monsieur Gérard might have spoken to someone about what a jerk McMartin was?”

Gil shrugged. “Perhaps. If that is the case, it may be that McMartin holds a grudge.”

“He might,” Alex agreed, his voice wary because Gil was looking at John.

“Maybe we should look Officer McMartin up,” John suggested.

“We should do that,” Gil agreed.

“Yo, guys,” Alex broke in. “No. It’s not necessary.”

“But it could be helpful,” Gil smiled. “Perhaps we could offer him congratulations on his heroism.”

John snickered. “That’s a great idea.”

Alex looked over to Ben for support, “John, Gil, come on. Stay away from the guy.”

Ben was no help. “I don’t know, maybe it’s not a bad idea. Let McMartin know we know who he is.”

“For God’s sake, Ben, they’ll shoot him!”

“Alex!” Gil protested, offended. “We have no intention of shooting him, do we, John?”

“Nope,” John responded, shaking his head so that his curls bounced, “no shooting intended.” But when he looked up, his eyes were sparkling.

“Let them go, Alex,” Ben said. “At the very least, they might get some useful information.”

Alex surveyed the rest of the room, but it seemed everyone agreed with Ben. He threw up his hands. “Fine, go ahead, but I still think it’s a terrible idea.”

“Cool!” Danny exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “Can I go?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tim's mention of "four little girls in a church" is a reference to the bombing of the 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama in 1963, in which four children died. I know I keep tying the Movement to the Civil Rights struggles of the 1960's and 1970's, but to me the connection seems obvious, and I do want to show the historical precedent of citizen protest bringing about change, from the American Revolution to today's protest marches.  
> Saint Dismas is actually a saint in the Catholic Canon, and I'm quite fond of him. He seems to be an appropriate patron saint for this band of law-breakers.  
> Should Danny go with John and Gil to confront McMartin? I haven't written that part yet, so I really would like your opinion. Danny is screaming to be a major player, and I'm spending too much time telling him to sit down and be quiet. Characters defend themselves.  
> Thank you as always for the kudos and comments. I'm so glad you like this story. <3


	35. The Sinners and the Saints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Schuylers decide on a name for the expected baby. John and Gil discuss money and relationships. Danny learns to shoot. John and Gil interview Officer McMartin. Everyone attends church, some more willingly than others.

Angelica and Eliza went back to Albany for the last week before fall semester started. As far as their parents knew, their “summer seminar” was finished.

“At some point, they may notice that we don’t have as many credits as we should,” Eliza commented to her sister.

“Maybe not. They’re going to be very busy with the new baby.”

“I feel like Peggy’s going to be caught in the middle.”

“What do you mean?” Angelica asked.

“Well, speaking as someone who has been the middle sister for nearly sixteen years, it’s harder to get noticed. You do know, don’t you, that Angelica’s the smart one, Peggy’s the funny one, and Eliza’s the other one?”

“Really? Who says that?”

Eliza rolled her eyes. “See? You don’t notice. Anyway, now it’s going to be Angelica and Eliza are the ones trying to overthrow the government, Baby No-Name is the cute one, and Peggy’s the other one. That’s going to be hard on Peggy.”

“It’s going to be harder on Baby No-Name if our parents don’t come up with something better.”

“You’re not taking me seriously.”

“Not if you keep calling our soon-to-be-born sister Baby No-Name.”

Eliza sighed. “I’ll talk to Peggy about it.”

As it turned out, their parents had an announcement at dinner their first night back.  They waited for dessert, which was homemade apple crisp, delicious as always but not as sweet as usual because sugar was in short supply.

“It’s nice to have homemade food,” Eliza said with a smile at her mother.

Catherine smiled back. “It doesn’t seem like any of my girls are going to enjoy cooking. I’d hoped to teach Peggy this summer, but no luck.”

Peggy rolled her eyes. “Gee, thanks, Mom. I did try, you know.”

Philip raised his eyebrow. “Your meatloaf was memorable.”

Peggy giggled. “It was a little hard.”

“Meatloaf? Hard? Even I can make a meatloaf,” Angelica said.

“No, hard like a rock. Very … um … solid.”

“I was going to get the chainsaw from the garage, but we ordered pizza instead,” Philip told them.

They were all laughing, including Peggy.

“So I’m hoping that daughter number four will have your mother’s flair for cooking,” their father went on.

“And now we know what her name will be,” Catherine announced, smiling.

“Let me guess,” Peggy said. “Hephzibah? Clorinda? Desdemona?”

“Those are all lovely names,” Philip responded, “but not the one we’ve chosen. It finally occurred to me that after all this time going through the family genealogy, there was one family name I hadn’t even considered. I suggested it to your mother, and she agreed to it.”

“With a couple of minor changes,” Catherine put in.

“What is it?” Angelica asked warily, thinking that maybe _Baby No-Name_ wasn’t so bad.

“Your mother’s name,” Philip said, taking Catherine’s hand.

“Only we’re going to spell it with a K and call her Katie.”

“Oh, I love that!” Eliza exclaimed, jumping up and hugging her parents. “Katie is an adorable name for a little girl.”

Angelica tried it out. “Katie Schuyler. My baby sister Katie. It’s perfect.”

Even Peggy had no criticism. “ _So_ much better than Hephzibah.”

“And her middle name will be Louise, for my grandmother’s favorite sister,” Philip added.

“Mm,” Angelica said noncommittally.

Peggy narrowed her eyes at her father. “You know, I’ve always felt bad about not having a middle name.”

Her mother gave her a meaningful look. “A deal was struck on the baby’s name,” she said, “and the middle name was part of the deal.”

 “Oh, well, then, I guess I’ll just pick my own middle name when I’m eighteen,” Peggy shrugged.

“What middle name do you have in mind?” her father asked.

“Hephzibah, of course.”

*          *          *          *          *

John went to Gil’s apartment for what they called a Trust-Fund Baby meeting. It wasn’t the first time, and it wasn’t something they shared with anyone else. They had money and, as Gil said, money was useful. It also carried a lot of emotional baggage, and they had to be careful about that. Their money couldn’t be useful if they were prevented from using it.

“Nine funerals,” John said, shaking his head. “Nine. Damn. And Danny says none of those families have enough to pay for them. They’re doing things like sharing the costs on all the family’s credit cards, that sort of thing. Anyway,” he added, pulling out a piece of paper, “I got Danny to tell me which funeral homes were handling which funerals. I told him we wanted to send flowers.”

Gil gave him an approving smile. “Good. Did we send flowers, by the way?”

“Of course. All the cards are signed _With deepest sympathy from your friends_ , and everything was paid in cash, so no trace. It’s a little harder with the amounts that we need to pay for nine funerals, but here’s what I’ve got so far. I’ve set up an ID that nobody else knows about, Michael Elliot, and I’ve been depositing in it regularly, never enough at one time to trigger an investigation, but you know as well as I do that they don’t investigate anybody banking money.”

“But they do investigate where it goes if you try to give it away,” Gil reminded him.

“Exactly. Right now, there’s plenty in that account to pay for the funerals, but there has to be a way to get it to the funeral homes without being investigated as an Enabler.”

The Anti-Enablement Act had limited charitable donations and gifts to those designated as Deplos. According to President King, giving money to the poor simply perpetuated their poverty because they would never learn to support themselves. Small donations were allowed in cases of natural disasters, but generally families were supposed to have money put aside to pay for expenses like funerals. Of course the entire premise was ridiculous; it was just another of King’s machinations aimed at keeping the wealth in the hands of the wealthy.

“Have you figured it out yet?”

“I think so.” John grinned at him. “Don’t you have a birthday coming up?”

Gil frowned “Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“If I make a large withdrawal, say seventy-five thousand dollars, it’s okay if I use it to buy you a birthday present. There’s no investigation since you are – how is it they designate you? Foreign national with so much money he’d definitely be a Have if he was a citizen?”

“What are you buying me?”

“I don’t know – a car, maybe? They don’t ask, but I have to give your name in case they check. You okay with that?”

Gil shook his head at the absurdity of it. “Sure, why not? I’ll tell them you’re my boyfriend.”

“Don’t let Alex hear you say that.” John’s face was unguarded, but he was smiling, and his eyes were clear green.

“Alex knows better,” Gil told him.

John kept smiling. “Maybe. That doesn’t mean it won’t come up again.”

Gil thought for a minute before he asked a question. “Are you and Alex okay?”

“Fuck, yeah, we’re good. The thing is, Gil, I _know_ Alex. I know him better than he thinks I do. He loves me, and I love him, but long-term, I won’t be enough for him. He’s not going to be able to limit himself to one person.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

John leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. “If I have to choose between sharing him and giving him up … well, I’ll keep him. I don’t think he’ll want somebody else instead of me; he’ll just want somebody else.”

“That sounds like it could be … complicated.”

“Yeah.” He looked at Gil and shrugged. “I’ll deal with it when I have to.”

“You know it won’t be me, right?”

“Oh, fuck, yeah. Not to say Alex will never try. He thinks he’s so irresistible, he could convert you.”

Gil shook his head silently. He loved Alex like a brother, but only like a brother. He changed the subject. “Now, that I know the funeral expenses will be paid, I’d like to make sure that the damages to the church will be repaired. Those windows need to be replaced before winter. In fact, there are many other things that also need repairs and updating. I had Danny make a list for me.” He opened his phone and began reading the list. “Apparently the roof needs to be replaced, or at least repaired, and the heating system is not functioning properly.”

“The furniture in the church office is in bad shape,” John added.

“Do you have any idea how much stained glass windows cost?”

“A lot. The ones that were shot out last week – man, that was a crime in itself. They’d probably be around ten thousand each to replace.”

“I was thinking maybe a couple of hundred thousand.”

“How are you going to pull that off? You can’t donate to a church you’re not a member of.” John suddenly looked at Gil in astonishment. “Are you going to join the church?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. And I already know that I can’t simply make a donation, but that particular regulation doesn’t apply to those outside of the country, so that if, say, my cousin Julien in France would like to make a donation to the Church of Saint Dismas, he is free to do so.”

John smiled. “That would be a very nice thing for your cousin to do.”

“That’s what I told him. That birthday you mentioned is my twenty-first, and as of Thursday, I can use the money in my trust fund for whatever I like. I will transfer the money to Julien, and he will send it to Tim.”

“Will Tim know where it came from?”

“I’d rather he didn’t. Julien is a second cousin on my mother’s side, so his last name is Thibaut, and he’s going to say he heard on the news about a terrible shooting in a church and was moved to send money.”

“You think Tim will believe that?”

“Possibly. If he’s not sure, maybe he won’t mention it.”

“Danny will know, because you asked him about what repairs the church needed.”

“At this point,” Gil said, “Danny knows more classified information than any of us. He won’t say anything.”

“True. We need to talk to him, though.”

“About McMartin?”

“Yeah, we’re not taking him with us.”

“Of course not. What do you think about teaching him to handle a gun, though?”

John considered that for a minute. “He’s fifteen. I was hunting when I was fifteen. Anyway, Danny’s already part of the Movement. He needs to know how to shoot.”

*          *          *          *          *

John had Danny come to the apartment to help him mix some ink and to show him how to use the laminator.

“See, what we’ve done here,” he said, pointing to some clear plastic, “is add a holographic overlay to the laminating film.” He put the ID card in the machine, pulled the lever, let it cool a minute, then took it out. “Hold the card at different angles,” he instructed.

Danny moved the card back and forth, and the holographic images appeared and disappeared. “Whoa, that is so cool.”

John grinned. “Can’t tell it from the real thing.”

“That’s why your IDs are the best ones to have,” Danny agreed.

“Yeah, they are. You want some coffee?”

“Nah, you have any soda?”

“Maybe. Take a look in the fridge.”

Danny found a lone can of Sprite pushed to the back, and helped himself to it. John made himself a cup of tea, and they sat at the table.

“Listen,” John said, “Gil and I talked, and you’re not going to go with us to see Officer McMartin.”

“Why not?”

“No need. You understand we work on a need-to-know basis, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, we also work on a need-to-act basis.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means we don’t send more people than we need because it just puts more people at risk. We generally don’t do solo missions, but if a job can be done by two people, that’s all we assign to it.”

“So you’re saying you and Gil can handle this mission without me?”

“Yeah,” John told him, trying not to smile.

“I’ll get to go on one soon, though, right?”

“You’re going to have to get some training first.”

“With a gun?”

“Yeah,” John said, wondering what he was getting himself into.

As it turned out, Danny took to guns in the same way that Gil had. He liked the way the gun felt in his hand, liked the mechanics of it, liked its precision. When they took him to the shooting range, it took him about five minutes to figure out how to hit the target, and with very little practice, his marksmanship rivaled Gil’s.

“We may have another sniper available,” John told Alex. “Danny’s good.”

“No,” Alex said. “He may be good, but he’s fifteen. I’m glad he knows how to shoot, but at fifteen, he doesn’t have the judgment.”

John shrugged. “Just saying, you know. If we need him.”

“I hope that never comes up,” Alex said somberly. “I hope we’re never in a position to need kids that young as armed combatants.”

“I could have done it at fifteen.”

Alex turned to look at John, who was next to him on the couch, his feet up on the coffee table as he stared straight ahead.

“Were you ever allowed to be a kid, John?” Alex asked softly.

John shook his head. “Not that I remember.”

Alex put his arm around him and pulled him close. “You can be a kid now if you want.”

John huffed a half-laugh. “I think that window closed a while ago. I’ll tell you what, though, if I ever have kids … they’re going to be allowed to be as silly and goofy as they want.”

Alex kissed the top of his head as it leaned on his shoulder. “You think about that sometimes? About having kids, I mean?”

“Yeah, I do, sometimes.”

“Me too,” Alex murmured.

John closed his eyes and let himself think about it, about him and Alex raising a kid who called one of them Daddy and the other one Papi, about going to parent-teacher conferences and baseball games or piano recitals, about being able to say _my son_ or _my daughter_. Until recently, he hadn’t even considered it as a possibility. Even now, he wasn’t sure that it could happen, but maybe there was a chance. He let himself fantasize for a few minutes, then pulled himself together. If they didn’t deal with King and his illegal government, there wouldn’t be a future at all.

“Gil and I are going to go visit McMartin tomorrow,” he said.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” Alex told him. “What’s the point, really?”

“Let him know we know who he is, where he lives, that sort of thing.”

“So, basically, intimidation?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Just don’t shoot him, okay?”

“I don’t want to shoot him. I want to scare him so that he talks to other Greaters about how dangerous we are. I want them to think twice before they ambush anybody again.”

“Okay,” Alex said, throwing up his hands. “Tell me all about it after it’s done.”

*          *          *          *          *

It hadn’t taken Nat too much time to find McMartin’s home address. The police personnel files hadn’t been that hard to hack into.

“You know, I’m thinking we could do a lot with this,” he said to John and Gil. “I think I can figure out how to attach reprimands to files, so that if anybody checks, it will look like they’ve been in trouble.”

“Oh, that sounds interesting,” Gil responded. “We’ll be sure to leave one for McMartin.”

Nat nodded. “Of course, we can’t put them in all the files. That would be too obvious. And we’ll have to be sure they don’t all sound alike, but I ought to be able to make it work. I might be able to mess up their overtime, too, make sure they don’t get paid for it.”

“Go for it,” John told him.

They left Nat doing what he could to make things difficult for the Greaters and took John’s car to McMartin’s neighborhood, a down-at-the-heel working class area at some distance from the campus.

“Looks like he’s not getting paid all that well,” John said, looking around. Most of the multi-family homes were in need of paint or minor repairs. There were grilles over almost all the doors and first-floor windows.

“You got your camera?” Gil asked.

John pulled a large, elaborate-looking camera out of the back seat. He had bought it at a thrift store for only a few dollars because it didn’t work, but that didn’t matter. He was posing as the photographer to Gil’s journalist, still using the Sean Burns ID. Gil was Gilbert Martin. While they thought it was unlikely that McMartin would remember a couple of college students he’d seen once in a protest march, they had both pulled their hair back into pony tails, and Gil was wearing glasses. He also exaggerated his accent a little, since the imaginary Canadian magazine he worked for was supposedly published in Québec. They had convinced McMartin that they were interviewing him for an article.

“You know,” Gil had said on the phone when they set up the appointment. “In Canada, we are hearing so many bad things about your government. We would like to present the story of a real hero like yourself, to show people that things are not as bad as they might have believed.”

McMartin hadn’t even asked for a callback number to verify them.

He answered the door himself when Gil rang the bell, his uniform freshly pressed with all the gold braid shining, ready for pictures.

“If I could just get a few shots of you standing, maybe over there by the fireplace,” John requested politely. He had McMartin stand in a variety of poses, clicking the button on the broken camera and pretending to fiddle with the settings. Gil waited patiently, doing an excellent job of controlling his desire to laugh, until John was done with the charade, and McMartin invited them to sit down.

Gil began his interview with some general questions about McMartin’s background and police training. Without realizing what he was doing, McMartin gave a detailed account of the training Greaters went through, including locations of classes and what he called “incident simulations.”

“Like, we would practice containing a group of rioters in a small area to get control,” he explained. “Making sure we had exits secured, that sort of thing.”

“And then when you have them all contained, you arrest them?” Gil asked innocently.

“Well …” McMartin raised a cynical eyebrow. “Sure, arrest them. A lot of them try to resist arrest, though.”

“That must be difficult.”

“Yeah, but we’re trained to handle it.” He recited the protocol for using weapons. Simplified, the protocol was that they were free to use pepper spray, truncheons, or firearms when they felt they needed them. There was no other standard applied.

“I can see that would make things easier for you,” Gil remarked, “not having to undergo an investigation every time you fire your weapon. After all, if you have been trained, then surely we should trust your judgment.”

McMartin nodded in agreement. “Exactly! We do the job we’re trained to do, and our citizens are safer.”

Gil pushed away the memory of pulling shards of glass out of a five-year-old and scrubbing blood off the church floor. “And I’m sure they are grateful. Now about this incident at the church.” He pretended to consult his notes. “The Church of Saint Dismas. Can you tell us what happened?”

McMartin shrugged. “Crazy guy walked in, started shooting the place up. We got the call at the station, and I was the first one on the scene.”

“You were alone? You don’t have a partner?”

“Uh, yeah, I do, but I left the station in a hurry, didn’t wait for him.”

“I see. So you arrived first, alone, and entered the church?”

“Yep.”

“That was very courageous of you. There could have been a dozen gunmen in the church.”

McMartin gave a modest shrug. “Just doing my job.”

“And what did you see when you entered the church?”

“Guy with a gun in the aisle, just shooting random people.” He suddenly remembered to look sad and changed the expression on his face.

“That must have been terrible.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah. Awful.”

“What did you do?”

“Well, I took the guy out, of course.”

“You shot him?”

“Yeah.”

“When we heard the reports of this incident, they had not identified the shooter. Do you know who he was?”

“You’d have to ask the captain about that. I heard the name, but I don’t remember it. It was a foreign name, though, like you’d expect, Ahmed or Ahmad or something like that. The guy was a terrorist.”

“I see.” Gil took a breath, giving himself time to remember that he and John had not come here to kill McMartin. Already they had gathered useful information, and having a friendly relationship with a member of the Greaters could be extremely helpful in the future. “So then, after you shot the terrorist, what did you do?”

McMartin looked puzzled. “What did I do? Oh, by then, other officers had arrived, and we made sure all the injured were taken to hospitals.”

“How many were injured?” Gil asked curiously.

“Uh, I’m not sure. A lot.”

“And how many killed?”

“Twenty, maybe? Honestly, I couldn’t tell you. I can probably get you a copy of the report.”

“I would appreciate that.” Gil consulted his notes again. “The pastor of the church, Reverend Timothy Dwight, did you speak with him?”

“Oh, yeah, sure, a little.”

“He must have been terribly upset.”

“Definitely. It was a terrible experience.”

Gil frowned as if trying to remember something. “I think I may have met Reverend Dwight in the course of another interview a few months ago. Is he about forty, on the stocky side, with thinning light brown hair?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

John, who had been silent up to this point, was suddenly seized by a coughing fit. McMartin went into the kitchen to get him a glass of water.

“You going to wind this up soon?” John whispered. “Because if not, I may kill this son of a bitch with my bare hands.”

McMartin reappeared with the water before Gil could answer, but he gave John an encouraging smile. In fact, he had just about concluded his interview, except for McMartin’s signature on a release for the “photographs” and making sure they had the names of his superior officers at the station spelled correctly.

They reported back to Alex an hour later.

“We have names,” John said. “We have training locations and schedules.”

“And McMartin’s still alive?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Gil told him. “You were right that he will be more useful to us alive, but please believe me when I say he is a person of no other value. If he was not going to be a source of information, he would be dead.”

“Yeah, well, it’s probably better not to leave a trail of bodies wherever you go.”

Gil shrugged. “It depends on whose bodies.”

John threw an arm around each of them. “Let’s go get some coffee.”

*          *          *          *          *

Alex thought it was important that they all show up at church on Sunday to support Tim and his congregation. The only one that gave him an argument was Gil.

“Really, Alex, I do not belong in church. I do not subscribe to superstition.”

“You went for the concert,” Alex countered.

 _“Exactement._ It was a concert. This will be _une messe, et je ne m’y intéresse pas.”_

“I don’t think they call it a mass if it’s not a Catholic church.” Alex, like Gil, had attended a Catholic church regularly as a child.

_“Je m’en fiche.”_

“Don’t you want to give Ruby her medal for bravery?”

That made Gil pause. “Eliza can give it to her,” he suggested after a moment.

“You know she’d rather have it from you.”

Gil sighed. _“Alexandre, tu me casses les pieds.”_

“Yeah, but you’ll go, just this once? You know it’s the right thing to do.”

“ _D’accord,_ but just this once.”

Everyone who was able came to Saint Dismas for the eleven o’clock service. Little Ruby was there with her grandmother and her mother, who was wearing a complicated sling to immobilize her shoulder. There were others with slings, bandages, and crutches, and there were two empty seats in the choir, but the congregation of Saint Dismas was in church because it was Sunday morning.

Angelica and Eliza had returned the night before from Albany with the news that their baby sister was going to be called Katie instead of Cornelia or something equally awful. Nat and Patty were holding hands and sitting as close together as possible, since Nat and Ben had to return to New Haven on Monday afternoon. After spending every free minute together for most of the summer, they were struggling with the prospect of not seeing one another every day. Gil had brought Deb in his car, with her wheelchair in the trunk, and had carried her into the church as casually as if he’d done it all his life. Deb had blushed and looked embarrassed as Gil gently set her down in the wheelchair and made sure she was comfortable.

“Look how sweet Gil is with her,” Eliza whispered to Angelica.

“Mm, probably not worth getting shot for,” Angelica responded.

“Oh, you know what I mean. Gil usually isn’t … romantic? Demonstrative? Not like …” She nodded toward Nat and Patty seated a few rows in front of them.

“I think Nat and Patty are really serious, though. I’m pretty sure Gil’s not planning to marry Deb, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about her.”

Eliza didn’t say any more about it, but she gave it some thought on her own. Gil and Deb seemed to have a good relationship, even though it didn’t include any long term plans. Maybe she should think about that. Maybe she should get out more, try to meet somebody, a nice guy who would … what? Pick her up and carry her if she got shot? That was a pretty minimal requirement. She was still thinking about it when Alex and John came in, almost late, taking their seats just across the aisle as Tim stepped up to begin the service. Alex looked over at her and gave her a grin. She was glad that just at that moment, Tim said, “Please join me in prayer.”

Everyone in the church bowed their heads and closed their eyes, and no one saw Eliza’s tears.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm McMartin, like Martin Middicks, Sylvia Johnson, and Samuel Seabury, was a New Yorker who was loyal to George III. I've played around with their lives and jobs, but they would all have been opposed to Hamilton and his friends.  
> Lafayette really did have cousins on his mother's side whose last name was Thibaut. I didn't find a Julien among them, so he's mostly fictional. He'll turn up again later. Speaking of the French-speaking family, when Gil tells Alex, "Tu me casses les pieds," he's using French slang that means more or less, "You're a real pain in the ass." The phrase literally means "You're breaking my feet," and unfortunately that's how Google translates it. I try to run all the French through Google for my readers who don't speak French, but when something like this comes up I'll add it in the notes. If you ever have any questions about what Gil's saying, just ask. He really prefers to speak French, so I can't always persuade him to say things in English.  
> Expect Alex to use the information from McMartin to plan some retaliation. Also expect there to be more fighting and bloodshed as the government becomes more repressive and the Movement becomes more militant. War is hell, and people get hurt.  
> On a different subject, is Eliza ever going to stop pining for Alex?  
> With the holidays coming up, I may not be able to update as often as usual. I appreciate your patience, and I will try not to let much more than a week go by between chapters.   
> Thanks to all of you lovely readers who have left kudos and comments. I always love to hear from you, and I really do value your input. Tell me what you think!


	36. Stay in the Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben and Alex talk about a secret file. Nat and Patty talk about another kind of secret. Ben and Nat leave for New Haven, but not before Nat sings to Patty. The school year starts and the SPG have a meeting to discuss strategies for the Movement. Danny turns to John for advice.

Sunday afternoon, Ben met with Alex to talk about communications.

“We’ll use the number codes when necessary, but otherwise just try to make it difficult for anyone to understand. Keep mention of names, places, and times to a minimum, whether we’re talking on the phone, texting, or writing letters. If there’s anything that isn’t safe to put in writing, we send somebody. We’re lucky that it’s only a couple of hours drive.”

Alex nodded. “I wish I knew what was coming next. I guess the General has some plans in mind, but I don’t know what.”

“Need to know,” Ben reminded him.

“Yeah.” Alex hesitated a minute, then asked, “Do you still have that recording on your phone?”

Ben didn’t answer, just looked off somewhere over Alex’s shoulder.

“You should delete it,” Alex said.

“A forensic tech could find it.”

“Then get rid of the phone and get a new one.”

“And turn this one in, with the possibility that they’ll analyze it?” A recent regulation required turning in any licensed phone in order to get a new one. “That would be really stupid.”

“Then do without a phone. Lots of people are now.”

Ben shook his head. “I need to be able to communicate with you and Ethan and the General. Besides …”

“What?”

Ben looked at Alex directly. “Don’t you understand that it’s more important than ever that we have a recording of the President warning us about Blodman and King?” he asked, his voice intense. “They killed President Washington and his whole family, and we’re the only ones who have proof that Washington knew they were plotting against him. How could I delete that? Someday, when we’ve got a decent government back, George King will be on trial, and that recording will be evidence against him. I have to keep it.”

Alex bit his lip. “You’re not wrong about that. I just wish there was a way to get it out of your phone and someplace else for safekeeping.”

“It’s safe in my phone. It’s in an audio file labeled _Irish folk music_.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Irish folk music?”

“Yes, and that’s exactly what’s in the file if anybody were to check – ‘Four Green Fields,’ ‘The Wild Colonial Boy,’ a few others. It’s just that the entry that’s labeled ‘The Minstrel Boy’ is actually Washington’s speech.”

“Is ‘The Minstrel Boy’ a real song?”

“Yeah,” Ben said. “It’s about a soldier who dies for his country.”

*          *          *          *          *

Nat and Ben had packed up everything in the furnished apartment they’d sublet all summer, so Patty and Nat had just finished their sandwiches on paper plates. They were trying to have a sensible conversation, but it wasn’t working out well.

“But you’re not sure?” Nat asked.

Patty shook her head. “Not yet. I just think.”

Nat reached across the table and took her hand.

“It’s okay, babe,” he said softly. “Hey, come on, look at me.”

She did, her brown eyes full.

“It’s okay,” he said again.

She swiped at her eyes with her hand and looked around for a tissue.

“Come here,” he said, tugging her hand, and when she stood up, he pulled her toward him and down onto his lap. He put his arms around her and stroked her back, kissing her hair as she buried her face in his neck. “Did you think I’d be upset or something?”

She sniffed. “I don’t see why you wouldn’t be. I am.”

“We’ll be okay,” he told her.

“How?”

“There are apartments in New Haven. There might even be coffee shop jobs.”

“What about money?” she asked.

“We’ll manage. My parents aren’t rich, but there’s enough. They’ll help out.” He put his hand on her cheek and turned her to face him. “Patty, sweetheart, we were going to get married anyway.”

She blew her nose on a napkin. “You’re awfully calm,” she told him, a little irritably.

He brushed her hair off her face and smiled. “Because I’m happy.”

She gave a little choking sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. “Really?”

“Really, really.”

She finally smiled back at him. “Me, too. I mean, it will take some getting used to, if it turns out … but it would make me happy too.”

“I love you, girl.”

“I love you too, boy.”

*          *          *          *          *

They all got together at John and Alex’s apartment for lunch on Monday, the last day before classes began. John had ordered pizza, of course, and Eliza had baked brownies, but the atmosphere was quieter than usual. It was only a week since the church shooting, and the memories remained vivid enough that most of them had had trouble sleeping. Deb was in her wheelchair with her leg propped up, and Gil had made sure she had everything she needed on the table next to her before he sat down. Nat and Patty had claimed the couch, or at least part of it, and John, Herc, and Danny were on the floor.

“The brownies are on the counter,” Eliza announced. “I only made a half batch because I couldn’t get enough sugar, so don’t take more than one.” She looked pointedly at Alex.

“Tell me again why we keep disrupting sugar shipments,” Johan requested.

“For exactly this reason,” Alex told him. “We inconvenience people, especially Haves, who are used to having all the best stuff. We disrupt everyday life and make sure everyone knows it’s King’s fault. Don’t forget to say ‘This wasn’t a problem when Washington was President’ whenever somebody complains about the shortage of sugar or copy paper or – what else are we focusing on?”

“Light bulbs,” Ben said. “Disposable paper products like paper towels and napkins. Last time I talked to Tony, he said the General was considering going for corn products, but that would be a huge undertaking, everything from movie popcorn to breakfast cereal to animal feed.”

“We don’t target any necessities,” Angelica put in. “The point is to disrupt everyday routines, not to endanger anyone.”

Danny had finished his pizza and was lying on his back with his head on his hands. “Do you think the time might come when we do prevent people from getting necessities?” he asked. “Things like medicines or adequate food?”

“God, I hope not,” Alex responded.

Danny sat up. “What if it were the only way to bring things to a conclusion?”

John poked him in the ribs. “Have you been reading sci-fi again?”

Danny kicked him lightly. “I just want to consider all the possible eventualities. I’m new to this, you know. I like to look ahead.”

“You’re new to it because you’re practically an infant,” John reminded him, “not because you just got on board late.”

“Infant?” Danny repeated, highly insulted.

“Knock it off, kids,” Angelica told them sharply.

“We’re just playing, Ange,” John said. Danny nodded agreement.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “I’m a little on edge. I’m not sure what it’s going to be like tomorrow. I feel like it’s been years since I sat in a classroom.”

“I think we’re all feeling that,” Alex agreed.

Unintimidated, Danny asked, “So what’s next?”

Ben and Alex looked at each other. “We wait to hear from the General for specifics,” Ben said, “but in the meantime, we continue what we’ve been doing. Disrupt, protest in any way we can.”

“We have some information now on Greater training,” Alex continued. “We’ll be making sure that some problems come up.”

“I might be able to screw up their scheduling,” Nat said. “It’s been pretty easy to hack into their database.”

“You should call TJ,” Alex told him. “He’s got some genius hacker working with him, somebody who was able to give us information that made it easier to find you and Patty when the Greaters stopped you. I don’t know who it is or if they’d be willing to share anything, but it’s worth a try.”

“Yeah, I’ll call him.” He hesitated for a moment, then went on. “Do we know any more about who might have laid information on us?”

Alex shook his head. “Nothing. We don’t even know if it was on one of you or on the van. I’m inclined to think it was on the vehicle, because they didn’t question either of you about any specifics, just names, destinations, that sort of thing. Whatever information they had must have been very general. I’m hoping that means it came from somebody who had suspicions, but no real knowledge.”

“So, not one of us?” Gil queried, his eyebrow up.

“God, Gil, don’t joke about it,” Eliza implored. She looked around the room anxiously. “It couldn’t be one of us.”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence, then Alex slammed his fist down on the table. “No!” he snapped, jumping to his feet. “We are not going to let suspicion break the trust we have in each other. We already do everything on need-to-know, so nobody’s sharing any information they don’t have to. A week ago at Saint Dismas, we all had each other’s backs, and we always will. Whoever informed the Greaters, it wasn’t anybody in this room. We need to be careful, maybe not be seen together all the time, keep an eye on who’s in Betsy’s if we use the back room, but that’s all just common sense.” He stepped closer to Eliza and took her hand. “It wasn’t one of us.” She put her head on his shoulder, and he hugged her tight. “You okay?”

Eliza nodded, sniffling a little, and kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Alex smiled at her. “Sure.”

Eliza blew her nose, and the conversation became general again, but only for a few minutes. Alex tapped on the table to get their attention. “Listen,” he said, “with the Simcoe Amendment on the DCA now, we have to be careful how much we’re even seen with one another in public. If one of us is arrested, ‘known associates’ can also be charged. I think we need to meet in private as much as possible, and especially to try to be seen in public with other people, people who aren’t involved in the Movement. At the very least, that will make it harder, if …”

“If one of us doesn’t get rescued?” Nat finished softly.

Alex flushed. “Well, yeah.”

Nat nodded. “We all know what we signed on for. We all know the risks.”

Eliza’s eyes filled again, and she reached for her sister’s hand. “Well, since Angelica and I would already be covered under the DCA, there’s no point in us staying away from each other.”

“True,” Alex agreed. “And I guess it’s too late to pretend John isn’t my boyfriend.”

“Way too late,” Herc commented drily. “John and I have the same major, though, so it would be normal for us to get together to talk about classes or something.”

“Yes, it would,” Gil said, “and of course everyone knows Deb and I are dating, but in all these cases, only one other person is involved. I think what Alex is saying is that we need to be careful about meeting repeatedly as a group.”

“Exactly,” Alex nodded. “And we’re going to have to start mixing with those outside the Movement.” He grimaced. “Maybe I’ll have coffee with Marty Middicks.”

John snorted. “Better you than me.” He looked at Herc sideways. “Oh, maybe you should ask Sadie Shippen out.”

“Fuck you,” Herc said calmly. “Also fuck Sadie Shippen and the horse she rode in on. There are some things I won’t do, even for my country.”

They all laughed, but they all also knew that Herc would do anything for his country, including risk his life.

Ben cleared his throat loudly, and said, “I hate to be the one to break up the party, but Nat and I have to get going.”

There were a few protests, but everybody knew they couldn’t delay much longer.

“I have a class tomorrow morning at eight,” Ben reminded them.

Alex winced. “At least I don’t have to get up early tomorrow. My first class is at eleven.”

They spent a few minutes chatting about schedules, tacitly ignoring Nat and Patty standing over near the door with their foreheads pressed together. They kissed, and then Nat turned to talk to the others. “Since Patty doesn’t have a phone license any more, I won’t be able to call or text her, but I’ll send her a message every day if you guys don’t mind passing it on. It’ll pretty much always be the same message, but I’d appreciate it if you’d just let her know that I’m thinking of her.”

Patty was blinking hard to keep the tears back, but she didn’t let them fall. “We’ll be writing letters,” she added. “Real, old-fashioned love letters on paper, so I can keep them and tie them up with a pink ribbon like they did back in the day. Maybe it won’t be so bad not having a phone.”

Nat bent to kiss her again, and then put his face close to hers, maybe whispering something to her. He was taking his time, though, and as the room fell silent, they realized he was singing to her.

“Oh, come on, Nat, we might as well hear it,” Danny told him.

Patty blushed bright pink, but Nat smiled and raised his voice a little. _“In the misty morning fog with our hearts thumping, and you, my brown-eyed girl, you, my brown-eyed girl.”_

*          *          *          *          *

When classes started up again, Alex found that some changes had been made over the summer. Dr. Wilson was no longer teaching, and no one seemed to know where he had gone. He had Dr. Barron for two classes, and Angelica was in one of them. Eliza, as a pre-law student, was in his Constitutional Principles class, as was Marty Middicks, who was trying to be friendly. Alex, remembering that he needed to be seen with those outside the Movement, did his best to reciprocate, if insincerely.

They all finished classes by three on Wednesdays and met in Betsy’s back room to catch up, making sure that they entered one or two at a time. Herc reported that as of this year, no male students were being accepted into the textile design program, although those already enrolled were allowed to continue.

“At least that’s what they’re saying now,” he announced. “I wouldn’t be surprised if by second semester, they tell me I have to change majors to something more ‘manly’.”

“Just come on over to graphic design,” John told him. “We’re all manly men over there.”

That made them laugh, but it was true that the Loving Moms and Dads activists encouraged by the government were talking seriously about proper courses of study for male and female students. The incoming class of business majors could be no more than ten percent female.

“It’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Angelica declared. “Do they think they can turn the course of history backward?”

“That’s exactly what they’re trying to do,” Alex responded. “They’re working from a nineteenth-century power model, with wealth, property, and political power shared among only a few, all old white men. When they very occasionally allow someone outside of the power group to, say, make a political decision, it will seem like freedom, rather than what it is, a carefully-rationed, single instance of authority.”

“That kind of authoritarianism never lasts,” Angelica said.

“Not in the long run,” Alex agreed, “historically speaking, but remember some of those ‘short’ reigns of government were a century or two. I’d like to have free elections in my lifetime.”

Angelica was distracted by her phone sounding, and she smiled at the screen. “Hey, Patty,” she said, “I think I have a message for you. At least I hope it’s for you.”

“What is it?” Patty asked, smiling.

“It says _Tell her ‘I love you, girl.’_ ”

“Can you text him back for me?”

“Sure. Here, you do it.” She handed Patty the phone, and Patty sent her message.

“Does he always call you _girl_?” Angelica asked curiously.

“Yeah, and I call him _boy_.”

“How very romantic,” Alex remarked drily.

“It’s all in the context,” Patty told him, smiling. “I like it.”

“And that is all that matters,” Gil put in unexpectedly. “Really, Alexander, are you such an authority on language that you can critique the endearments people use?”

“Okay, you’re right, sorry, Patty,” Alex mumbled, embarrassed.

Patty laughed. “It’s fine,” she said. “It’s just Alex being Alex.”

Alex’s outraged face made everyone laugh.

“What does that even mean?” he demanded. “Me being me?”

John looked at him from under his lashes, trying not to smile. “Oh, you know, expressing your opinion freely, explaining what everything means, enlightening everybody on pretty much every topic.”

Alex turned red. “Really? Is it that bad?”

“Not yet,” Gil responded, “but only because we keep you in check. Be grateful, Alex, that your friends prevent you from becoming entirely arrogant.”

“Wow, I need more coffee now,” Alex said, picking up his cup. He filled it at the coffee pot that was an important feature of the meeting room, and stirred in a spoonful of sugar. He wanted more, but they were trying to give Betsy any extra sugar they had so that she could continue baking her usual items. He turned back to face his friends with a half-smile. “Gil’s right, much as I hate to admit it. I’m not completely oblivious to my tendency to be obnoxious.”

“Oh, never obnoxious,” Eliza assured him hastily. “We never let it get that far.”

Alex put his arm around her and pulled her in for a hug. “Well, thanks for your vigilance. Now, maybe I should let the president of this organization take over.”

“Thank you,” Angelica said. “I’d almost forgotten. There are a few things I want to talk about. First, we know Dr. Wilson is no longer on faculty, but nobody seems to have any information on where’s he’s gone. Are there any other professors who have disappeared like that? Is there any way we can check on their safety? What about students? Anybody missing without a logical explanation?”

“You don’t think something bad has happened to Dr. Wilson, do you?” Alex asked, frowning.

“Not really, but you know the Greaters don’t have to release the names of people they arrest for sedition. Dr. Wilson could be in a cell somewhere and we’d never know.”

“God, I hope not. Let’s check around, ask discreetly, see what we can find out. What else?”

“I want to urge everybody again to mix with other students who are outside the Movement. First, it helps protect us from being charged under the Simcoe Amendment if any one of us is arrested. In addition, though, it’s a way to pick up information. If you hang out with some of these Have kids whose parents are something in the government, you might learn a lot.”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” John said doubtfully. “I’ve been hanging out with those Schuyler girls for a year now, and all I’ve learned is that none of them can cook.”

Eliza smacked him on the arm. “There’s nothing wrong with take-out. And anyway, we’re Hopes, not Haves.”

“Your dad was in the government though, wasn’t he?” Johan asked.

“He was,” Eliza responded, “but under President Washington. When Blodman was elected, my dad had to find a new job.”

“Okay, so, trying desperately to stay on topic, we’re going to get the names of anyone who has gone missing and mingle more with others. Anybody have any other suggestions or anything else to add?”

“In all seriousness,” Herc said, “if the administration decides that college majors are going to be gender-specific, do we have any recourse? What if next semester, they tell me textile design is limited to females and tell Angelica that political science is limited to males? Do we lose the credits we already earned and have to start again in a new major? I have a scholarship, but it’s for four years. It’s not going to fund me if I have to start over.”

“Let me see what I can find out,” Angelica told him. “I can talk to Dr. Barron. I know he’s sympathetic to the Movement, so I think he’ll give me a straight answer.”

“One more thing,” Alex said. “I know Mark Willet was away for the summer, but I don’t know if he’s back. Anybody seen him?”

Patty nodded. “Yes, he stopped in this morning and said he wouldn’t be here this afternoon because there was some kind of mix-up about his dorm room and he had to sort it out. Sorry,” she added. “I was supposed to tell you.”

“Okay, no problem. I know we didn’t see much of Nate Pendleton and Joe Allicocke over the summer either, but they both had full-time jobs. I want to be sure we didn’t lose any membership. Maybe we can even get some new members. Oh, and don’t forget that to anyone outside of the group, we’re still the SPG, not the Movement.”

Alex and John walked the few blocks back to the apartment in the pleasant September afternoon.

“I didn’t even ask you how your painting class went,” Alex said. With a major in visual arts, John was going to be working on his portfolio.

“It was good,” John shrugged. “Not fantastic, but all I want them to do is leave me alone. I mean, the instructor is talking about how to mix paint – I ask you!”

“Well, go ahead and ask me, because I have no idea why that’s annoying.”

“Because what are people doing in a visual arts major if they don’t know something as basic as mixing paint? It would be like somebody majoring in, I don’t know, political science but not knowing the difference between democracy and monarchy.”

“Okay, I get it. Nice analogy, by the way.”

John snorted. “You talking down to me, smartass?”

Alex grabbed him and hugged him. “I love you. Thank you for not letting me get away with being an asshole.”

“I do my best. Now let go of me before we get ticketed for PDA.”

Public displays of affection were now considered a form of disorderly conduct. While tickets were rarely given, a same-sex couple was much more likely to get a summons than a male and female pair.

When they got to the apartment, they were surprised to find Danny sitting on the hall floor by the door, looking sullen.

“Hey, what’s up?” John asked casually.

Danny shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Oh, right, you live in the hall. I always forget.” He unlocked the door and threw it open. “Get in there and don’t be an idiot.”

Danny did as he was told, and John telegraphed a look to Alex behind him.

“I need to take a shower and get started on some reading,” Alex announced, and left John with Danny in the living room.

“You want something to drink?” John asked.

“You got any soda?”

“No, and that stuff’s bad for you anyway. Water, tea, or orange juice?”

“Tea, I guess.”

John put on the kettle and got out mugs and tea bags, giving Danny time to think about whatever it was that he had to think about. Danny sat on the floor, despite the fact that the couch and chairs were unoccupied.

“How come you have that fancy angel picture on the wall?” he asked, seemingly at random.

“That’s Gabriel,” John said. “The original painting is in the Cloisters, and Alex thinks it looks like me, so we got the print.”

“That doesn’t look like you,” Danny told him scornfully.

“Just the hair, really.”

Danny narrowed his eyes and scrutinized the painting. “Yeah, I guess. How come the table is all weird, like it’s falling over?”

“Because at the time it was painted, they didn’t have a full understanding of perspective.” John poured the tea, added milk, and carried the mugs into the living room. “Did you come over to discuss art history, because I could go on like this all night …” He handed Danny a mug and sat down on the floor next to him.

“No,” Danny muttered, and took a sip of tea. “No sugar?”

“We’re giving any sugar we get to Betsy because she needs it for her business to survive. We can do without it.”

Danny snickered. “Even Alex?”

“I didn’t say he liked doing without it, but yeah, even Alex thinks Betsy’s livelihood is more important than having his coffee extra sweet.” John gave him a little more time.

“I know I usually call before I come over,” Danny said finally.

“Yeah.”

“I just needed to get out of the house, you know?”

“I don’t know, actually. You should probably tell me.”

“Listen, it’s not that I’m ungrateful. I know my mom works hard.”

“Okay. Now back up a little and tell me why you’re saying that.”

Danny took a breath, and John could see him arranging the words in his head. “You guys have never met my mom.” That was true. They had been surprised not to see her at the concert or at the church service. It was unusual for a fifteen-year-old kid to be involved in church without at least a little parental pressure. “She thinks New York is too dangerous, so now she wants us to move to Tennessee, where my Aunt Sue lives. That’s my mom’s sister. She lives in some nowhere town.”

“I take it you don’t want to move to Nowheretown, Tennessee.”

“Oh, hell, no.”

John drank some tea. “Is that what you said to your mom?”

“Yeah.” Danny scuffed his right toe along the along the side of his left foot.

John kept his voice calm. “I doubt if that went over well.”

“She was pretty mad.”

John waited, sipping his tea.

“She yelled at me about how she just wants to keep me safe,” Danny admitted, his voice a little tight. “She … uh … she thinks I might be involved in dangerous stuff here.”

“You are, Danny. For God’s sake, you’re fifteen, and you’ve already been shot, you spent a night scrubbing blood off the church floor, and now you’re hanging around with people who are actively working to overthrow the government. Yeah, I’d say you’re involved in dangerous stuff, and your mother has a right to be concerned.”

Danny looked away and sniffed. “I thought you’d understand,” he mumbled.

“Understand what? You can’t understand anything if you don’t face it. I’m not talking about should or shouldn’t, stay or go, I’m just saying that if you tried to tell your mother that you weren’t in any danger, you were lying to her.” John swallowed the last of his tea. “Look,” he went on, “I’m not all that much older than you, and I probably come from the most dysfunctional family on Planet Earth, but I know that if you’re not dealing with something honestly, you can’t get anywhere. Someday maybe I’ll talk to you about my father. We don’t have any contact with each other and probably never will, but the issue between us was that I was trying to be honest with my father, and he kept telling me not to be.”

Danny stared at him. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Right,” John agreed, and waved his hand vaguely. “That’s what I’m saying. When your mom started talking about the dangerous stuff you’re involved in, did you try to tell her it wasn’t really all that dangerous?”

“Well, yeah, of course. I mean, it’s not … I … I don’t…”

John kept looking at him. After a while, Danny turned and finally made eye contact. “So you’re saying I was lying to her?”

“Yeah.”

“But if she thinks I’m in danger, she’s going to drag me off to Nowheretown,” Danny protested.

“So you can be dishonest with your mom to get her to do what you want?”

“Shit, John, why are you putting it like that? You want me to say, ‘Oh, right, Mom, I might get shot again. I might even get killed like Mr. Dawkins did, but don’t worry about it’? You think that’ll help?”

“That’s not your only other option.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, what do you want?”

“I want to stay here. I want to be part of the Movement.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because it matters. Because I can do something to help. Because I want a better future where we have free elections.”

John smiled. “Could you say that to your mom?”

Danny thought about it. “I don’t know. I didn’t try.” He bit his lip. “I think my mom would want to go anyway. She just keeps saying she’s not interested in political stuff, but she doesn’t understand that all the political stuff is about what kind of lives we’re going to have. She likes the Rev and all, and she says she’s glad I hang out in the church instead of on a street corner, but she doesn’t really connect with the church, you know what I’m saying?”

“Yeah. If she goes, do you go?”

Danny looked surprised that he would ask. “I’ve been thinking about that,” he said. “I’ve kind of got an idea.”

“If it involves moving in here, no.”

“Here? With you and Alex? Fuck, no.”

“Oh, thanks a lot,”

“No, I didn’t mean … ah, come on, John, you know what I mean.”

John was laughing. “I know exactly what you mean, and I’m glad that wasn’t your idea. So what was it?”

“Well, you know the church is old, and it’s big. When it was built, there would be like a thousand people in worship on Sundays. It’s gotten pretty run down, but I don’t know if you heard – some guy in France read about the shooting and sent a huge donation, enough to repair the roof and put in a new heating system, do some other things. Anyway, there are a lot of rooms that we don’t even use anymore, and there’s the kitchen, where Betsy made coffee, and there’s a couple of bathrooms. One of them has a shower. So I was thinking of asking Rev if I could stay there.”

John nodded, hearing him out. “What about food, other expenses?”

Danny shrugged. “That’s where I get stuck. And I don’t even know if Rev would let me do it. It’s kind of a crazy idea.”

“It might be.”

“So what should I do?”

“Yo, Danny, if you came here to get that question answered, you’re in the wrong place.”

“Come on, John.”

“I’m serious. I don’t have any answers. All I can say is go back and talk to your mom, talk to Tim, tell them what you told me, see what you can figure out …”

He was interrupted by Alex coming into the room holding out his phone. “Tim wants to talk to you, Danny.”

Danny stood up, looking miserable and even younger than he was. He took the phone from Alex.

“You can take it in the studio if you want a little privacy,” John suggested, and Danny shot him a grateful glance before leaving the room and carefully closing the door to the studio.

“He doesn’t want to move in here, does he?” Alex asked, heading to the kitchen to make tea.

“Absolutely not.”

“Okay, good, because that was something Tim was concerned about.” He filled the kettle and turned it on. “You want more tea?”

“Yeah. Danny has this idea about living in the church.”

“I’m not surprised. Tim says he was furious about this plan to move to Tennessee.”

“Yeah, he is, but you know, I can see his mom’s point too. She doesn’t want him getting shot at.”

“Right, but I don’t know if she can stop it. Even if she takes him to Tennessee, how long before he’s back here? I give him a week before he’s on the interstate with his thumb out.” He poured the boiling water over the tea bags. “Do we have any cookies?”

“No. There’s a sugar shortage.”

Alex made a forlorn, disappointed face that melted John’s heart. He stood up and went into the kitchen to put his arms around Alex. “When all this is over, _querido_ , I’ll bake cookies for you every day.”

“No, you won’t,” Alex said sadly. “You’ll only make them once in a while because they’re not really good for me.”

John held him tighter. “You’re right,” he whispered, “but it’s because I love you and I want us to grow old together and still be healthy enough to fuck every night when we’re eighty.”

Alex had just taken his first sip of tea, and it spurted out through his nose as he burst out laughing. “Ow!” he snorted, grabbing a napkin to wipe his face and the counter. “You trying to kill me?”

John was laughing too, but he managed to say, “No, just reminding you of why I make you eat healthy.”

Alex blew the tea out of his nose on a tissue. “Well, if that’s the prospect I’ve got to look forward to, I don’t care if I ever have cookies again.”

They were still laughing when Danny came out of the studio and handed Alex his phone. “My mom called Rev after I left,” he said.

“Does that surprise you?” John asked him.

“No, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it,” Danny snapped. “Sorry,” he added, seeing John’s expression.

John didn’t say anything.

Danny blew out a breath and turned to Alex. “Does he talk all this honesty and reality shit to you too?” he asked, clearly irritated.

Alex laughed. “Oh, yeah.”

“Man,” Danny muttered, drawing out the syllable. Then he looked at John, giving him a reluctant smile. “Thanks, though. Maybe I don’t like hearing it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t need to hear it.” He held out his hand, and John shook it.

“Listen,” Alex said to Danny, “you know you can come here any time if you need to talk or just cool off, right?”

“Yeah. I have to go now, though. Rev is coming over to our apartment and we’re all going to talk.” He didn’t look happy at the prospect.

“You can’t fix anything if you don’t talk about it,” John reminded him.

Danny nodded.

“You okay to get home?”

“Yeah, I’ll get the bus.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. It’ll give me some time to think about what I’m going to say.”

“Okay. Let us know how it goes.”

Danny nodded again and left. John looked at Alex and shook his head. “Kids these days, you know?”

Then he picked up his phone and texted Tim: _Let me know if you need funds to pay a church caretaker._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find the song "Brown-Eyed Girl" that Nat sings to Patty on the internet. I think it was a kind of hippie song back in the '60's, but Springsteen also performed it.   
> There is a lot going on with our people in psychological ways more than action ways right now, but of course the action will return. In the meantime, they will have to sort out the psychological issues to be ready to deal with the action. I wonder if they'll find out where Dr. Wilson went. Who else is missing?  
> It is a busy time of year, so it's been hard to find writing time. I was hoping to get two more chapters up before Christmas, but that's not going to happen. I should post another one around New Year's day, though, if all goes as planned.  
> I hope whatever holiday you may celebrate is a happy one, and if you don't celebrate a holiday at this time of year, I hope you just have some happy days. Thank you, my lovely readers, for your interest, and your comments, and your kudos. You are such nice and interesting people! Merry Everything and XOXOXO from me to you.


	37. I Imagine Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Barron has to walk his dog. Patty interrupts Angelica and John at an awkward moment. Eliza brings up a topic Angelica doesn't want to talk about. Alex gets some information, and warnings have to be sent out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a fair amount of conversation about [hypothetical] death in this chapter. It's worth repeating that while I don't use warnings, you are reading a story about armed resistance to an oppressive government. War is hell. Also, it's what you don't see coming that gets you.

Angelica made an appointment to talk to Dr. Barron the next afternoon. Every corner of his office was crammed with books, and the desktop was covered with papers in seemingly haphazard order. Dr. Barron himself exhibited the same sort of casual untidiness, his tie knotted crookedly, his thinning gray hair in need of a comb.

He looked at Angelica over his glasses. “You are a friend of Alexander Hamilton, I believe,” he said, his accent perceptible but vague.

“Yes, I am. We met in Students for Progressive Government.” She hoped he would understand that he could speak to her freely, but he just nodded and murmured something noncommittal.

“And what can I help you with today, Miss Schuyler?” he asked, pushing his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose.

“Two things, actually. First, my friends and I were wondering about Dr. Wilson. We’re sorry to see that he’s not here this year.”

“Ah, yes, it is a loss to the university that he has left,” Dr. Barron agreed. He picked up a pencil and doodled with it on the corner of an old envelope. “James Wilson is a fine scholar.” He smiled paternally at Angelica and added a few more strokes to his doodle. “We all miss him.”

Without looking down at the desktop, he turned the envelope he had been scribbling on so that she could see it. In tiny letters in the corner were the words _room prob bugged. cameras._

Angelica felt her heart start racing but spoke with complete control. “Well, if you speak with him, please give him my best.”

Dr. Barron smiled with satisfaction as he made crisscross doodles over the words on the envelope. “I will indeed. And what was the other thing you wanted to talk to me about?”

Angelica thought fast. She was not going to bring up the question of gender-specific majors if there was the possibility of their conversation being monitored.

“I just have a question about the assignment in Nationalism and Cosmopolitanism. Did you say the draft copy was due on Monday or Wednesday?”

“Monday, I’m afraid,” Dr. Barron replied with another easy smile. “It’s early in the semester, but I am already ruining my students’ weekend.”

“I’ll to try to get it done before Friday,” Angelica said, smiling back. “I’ll see you in class on Monday, then.”

“Of course, but perhaps even before then, as I have just acquired a little dog, and I find I must walk her often.” He made a comical face. “You know I live just around the corner on 116th Street, and several times a day now, I walk Bijou around the block, so I see many of my students during my walks.”

The message was clear. “Well, then, I may see you before Monday. Thanks so much for your help.”

“Any time, Miss Schuyler,” Dr. Barron responded as he stood up, a clear signal that the meeting was over.

She texted Alex when she got back to her dorm. _Any way we can meet to talk?_

 _763@4,_ Alex replied.

Betsy’s conference room at four o’clock.

She went in the back door through the alley. Alex and John were both already there, and she related to them what Dr. Barron had told her.

“Holy shit,” Alex said, stunned into near silence for once.

“If professors’ offices aren’t safe, no place on campus is safe,” Angelica declared. “I’m going to tell Eliza to be careful what she says even in the dorm room.” The Schuyler sisters had requested and been granted permission to room together this year.

John nodded. “What about our apartment?”

“They couldn’t …” Alex began, then stopped. “God, there’s really no way to know, is there?”

“So where can we talk?” Angelica asked.

“Here, for now, at least. As far as anyone but us knows, this is a storage room,” John said. “Outside. Public places off campus.”

“You mean like in a store or something?”

“Yeah, but we can’t exactly make plans for Missions in Macy’s, you know.”

“Here, then,” Alex continued. “In our apartment or dorm room if we remain in the middle of the room, talk quietly, and have music blasting. We can also write notes with pencil and paper, as long as we destroy them every time. And now I’m going to take a walk around the block and see if I happen to run into Dr. Barron and his dog.”

“If you can, ask him about gender-specific classes,” Angelica said. “I didn’t bring it up today.”

“I will.”

Alex opened the back door a crack and checked the alley carefully before he left. Angelica leaned back in her chair and looked at John. “I can’t believe it’s gotten this bad this fast. It’s less than a year since the election.”

John’s face was serious, his jaw set. “I know. I believe King had it all planned, though. Get Blodman elected, get rid of him, kill the Washingtons, and consolidate power. Look how well it’s worked. There are still plenty of people who talk about how much safer we are under King.”

“Yeah, it’s amazing how many people are willing to give up their rights for an illusion of safety.”

“King rules by fear. He’s done everything he can to make us fearful of each other. Immigrants are dangerous, gays are dangerous, pretty much everybody different from us wants to kill us.”

“It’s people like King who scare me most,” Angelica said.

“Well, sure,” John agreed. “Division’s his strategy. It’s much easier to intimidate a fragmented society than a unified one.” He got up restlessly and made more coffee. “You want some?” he asked.

Angelica didn’t have time to answer before her phone sounded. She looked at the screen and smiled. “How convenient,” she said. “It’s Nat. Yeah, pour me another cup. I’ll go give the phone to Patty so she can answer him.”

“Check before you go out front,” John reminded her.

She stopped and took a breath. “Fuck, I hate all this shit.”

He gave her a quick hug. “We all do. Go tell Patty Nat loves her. At least that’s one good thing that’s come out of all this.”

Angelica did a quick reconnoiter before she stepped into the front of the coffee shop. Even then, she stayed behind the counter, where she caught Mark’s eye.

“What’s up?” he asked, looking past her to see if anyone else was there.

“I have a message for Patty.”

Mark smiled. “Let me see if I can guess who it’s from. She’s clearing tables.”

He’d hardly spoken when Patty came behind the counter with a tray of dirty dishes. She smiled when she saw Angelica holding up her phone.

“Be right back,” she said, taking the tray into the kitchen. She returned in a minute and held out her hand for the phone. “I’m on break.”

“I’m going to go have another cup of coffee with John,” Angelica told her. “You can talk to Nat, but if Alex calls, come get me.”

Patty took the phone back into a corner to have a private conversation, but Mark looked at Angelica, frowning. “Everything okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re expecting a call from Alex?”

Angelica shrugged. “Not really, but if he calls, I’ll want to talk to him.”

“Has something happened?”

“What, you mean besides the country being taken over by a lunatic dictator and the Constitution being shredded daily?”

“Well, yeah, sort of. I mean, are there any new plans I need to know about? I was away most of the summer, so I feel kind of out of things.”

“Oh, okay, I see what you mean. No plans that you need to know about, and everything is on a need-to-know basis, so what can I say? If you need to know, you’ll know.”

Mark’s eyebrow went up. “Alex doesn’t trust everybody?”

“No, it’s not that at all,” Angelica assured him. “It’s for our own safety. We can’t tell what we don’t know.”

“There’s another side to that,” Mark pointed out.

“What do you mean?”

“We might be tortured or killed for not telling.”

Angelica didn’t like the way that sounded. “We know what the risks are.”

Mark nodded. “Yeah. I’m just not so sure this need-to-know thing makes as much sense as they say it does.”

Angelica gave him a faint smile. “Well, that one comes from the General, so you’ll have to take it up with him.”

Mark just shook his head and went to get some fresh scones from the kitchen. Patty was still in the corner, talking to Nat and smiling. Angelica went back to the conference room.

“Mark Willet just raised an interesting question,” she said to John as they sat at the table with their coffee.

“What?”

“About need-to-know – let’s suppose that Alex and I are off on some Mission, and you don’t know what we’re doing or where we are, and you get dragged in by the Greaters and interrogated. You can’t give them any information no matter what they do to you …”

“Yeah, that’s the whole point,” John broke in.

“No, wait, hear me out. You end up dying just because you don’t know something. You’re completely innocent.”

“Right.”

“But John, that’s awful.”

John regarded her with something like compassion. “Yes, it’s awful. But if I knew and they were able to get the information out of me, then maybe all three of us die. It’s a numbers game, Ange. Keep as many of us alive as possible.”

Angelica put her coffee cup down and rubbed her forehead, not meeting John’s eyes. He got up and walked around to her side of the table, pulled another chair close to her and put his arms around her. She started crying against his shoulder, and he stroked her hair. “You’ve always known that,” he whispered.

“Yeah, it’s just … putting it in words like that. I haven’t really expected that people will die.”

“They already have,” he reminded her.

“I know, but …” she choked off a sob and started again. “None of us, though. I know that sounds terrible, it makes me feel selfish and privileged to even think it, but I hadn’t really seriously thought that some of us will die.”

John’s childhood had given him the grim understanding that there was no safe place anywhere. He thought of Angelica’s background, her loving parents and sisters in the brick house in Albany, where she had always been cared for and protected. He had envied her that, but at least he was better prepared to face danger than she was. He held her tight and let her cry for a while. When she took a deep breath, he pulled back and brushed her hair off her face.

“Listen,” he said softly, “if I die to save you or Alex or Eliza or Herc, that’s okay. I know that could happen, and I’ve thought about it. If I die to help win this fight, that’s okay too. There are no guarantees for any of us, ever. I could get hit by a truck on my way home tonight, and then my death would mean nothing. We’ll all die someday, and I’d rather my death had a purpose, you know? Some things, some people are worth dying for.”

She nodded, biting her lip.

He wiped the tears off her face with his fingers. “Knowing it might happen makes it easier, as strange as that seems,” he told her. He’d always known that his father might kill him one day, and somehow, that had diminished his fear.

She caught his hand and held it against her cheek. “I want to be as brave as you,” she whispered.

“Oh, Angelica,” he sighed. He leaned forward and kissed her on the lips, briefly and gently. “It’s got nothing to do with bravery. It’s about trying to do the right thing, no matter how scared I am.”

“You never seem like you’re scared.”

He smiled faintly. “Good. That means my deception is working.”

She rested her forehead on his. “I love you, John Laurens,” she said, her voice breaking on his name.

“I love you too, Angelica Schuyler.”

They were still in that position when the door opened, and they looked up to see Patty startled and confused by what she saw.

John sat up straight and gave a rueful laugh. “Not what it looks like,” he said.

Patty was stammering in embarrassment. “No, I mean … I’m sorry, it’s none of my business at all …”

Angelica had found some tissues in her purse and was wiping her eyes. “I’m going to call Alex right now.” She held out her hand and took her phone from Patty.

“Good idea,” John agreed.

“No, you don’t have to,” Patty said. “I won’t say anything.”

“Right, that’s exactly why we need to talk to Alex,” Angelica. “We’re not doing anything behind his back.”

Patty looked at her doubtfully, and Angelica tried again. “We were talking about some very serious stuff, and I got upset. John was helping me get through it. It was absolutely nothing that I wouldn’t have told Alex anyway.”

“Are you okay?” Patty asked, her face still concerned.

“I’m okay. I probably look like hell, though.”

“You don’t, but I can see that you’ve been crying.”

Angelica blew her nose. “Yeah, I’m sure.” She gave John a quick, tight hug, and stood up. “I’m going to go do homework for Nationalism and Cosmopolitanism. It’ll be good for my brain.”

After she left, John smiled at Patty. She remembered how that smile used to make her feel, and she wasn’t at all sure that it didn’t have the same effect on Angelica.  

“How’s Nat doing?” John asked, not sounding nearly as emotional as Angelica had.

“He’s good. Complaining about too much homework, you know. He wants to try to get down here for a weekend soon.”

“That would be nice.”

“Yeah.” She made a move toward the door.

“Listen,” John said, “Angelica and I are both going to talk to Alex about the same thing we were talking about in here. I would anyway, but besides that, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or think you have to conceal something. I know assumptions are easy to make.”

Patty didn’t try to deny it. She looked at the floor, and then muttered, “I heard you tell her you love her.”

John nodded. “I do. I love her very much, but not the way I love Alex or Nat loves you. I love her as one of my best friends, one of the people I care about most in the world. She knows that. She loves me the same way.”

Patty finally met his eyes. “That’s all?”

John laughed at that. “Isn’t that enough? I’m lucky to love as many people as I do, and to have them love me back, but yeah, that’s what you saw.”

Patty nodded. “Okay. That makes sense.”

John’s phone sounded a text. It was from Alex. _You cooking dinner tonight?_ Followed by a heart emoji.

John texted him back the laughing emoji and _Why? You hungry?_

_Starving. Where r u?_

_On my way._ He followed it with five hearts and thought about how lucky he was, as he had said to Patty, that there were people who loved him.

*          *          *          *          *

Alex was always happy to eat John’s cooking, even his last-minute ground beef-tomato-macaroni skillet thing that they still hadn’t come up with a name for. John had opened a bag of salad to go with it, and Alex was feeling proud that he had eaten a healthy dinner.

“Do we have any cookies?” he asked hopefully. They were sitting on the couch just about to watch the evening news on TV.

“No,” John responded, smiling, “but there’s a bag of apples from the farmers’ market.”

Alex sighed, but since he had already done a thorough cookie search before John got home, he wasn’t surprised. He got two apples out of the fridge and tossed one to John, who took a crunchy bite.

“I need to tell you some stuff,” John said when he was done chewing.

Alex looked at him expectantly, and he related his conversation with Angelica, leaving nothing out.

“I wanted to tell you because Patty seemed uncomfortable,” John finished the story along with his apple, and got up to throw the cores away. “She said she understood, but just in case she’s a little weird around us …”

“Yeah, I get it.” Alex smiled. “You know Patty used to have a huge crush on you, right?”

“What?”

“Nobody had bothered to tell her you were gay, because everybody thought everybody else knew, so …”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, but she’s over it now.”

That made John laugh. “Oh, good, because if not, Nat might have a problem with me.” He shook his head. “Love is complicated.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know, figuring how who you love, hoping they love you back, knowing the difference between loving someone like a friend and loving someone romantically.”

Alex thought about it. “I guess.”

“It’s not something I’ve had a lot of practice at,” John said.

Alex reached out and pulled John closer. “You’re doing okay at it.”

John twisted around so he could put his head in Alex’s lap, and Alex sighed, twisting a soft curl around his finger. John snuggled in and relaxed, his eyes closed. “I like it when you play with my hair,” he said.

“I know.” Alex picked up another curl and stretched it out, smiling as it sprang back into place. John’s hair showed golden brown in the lamplight, and Alex wound another strand around his forefinger. “So pretty,” he murmured. “I could do this for hours.”

“Go ahead,” John told him, his face and his voice both soft.

“Can’t,” Alex told him, his disappointment evident. “You had to tell me some serious shit, and now I have to tell you stuff.”

John shifted position so he could nuzzle Alex’s crotch. “Tell me later, maybe?” he suggested.

“Ah, _shit,_ John,” Alex gasped.

John moved his face away just long enough to get Alex’s zipper down and take him in his hands, then in his mouth. Alex groaned and thrust his hips forward. Somewhere in a tiny corner of his mind was the thought that there was something important to talk about, but John’s mouth was warm and soft and insistent, and Alex gave himself up to it, begging for more until John gave him everything he wanted.

*          *          *          *          *

Angelica had pressed a cold washcloth over her eyes and had reapplied her make-up, but Eliza could always tell when she’d been crying.

“What’s wrong?” she asked not five minutes after she entered the dorm room where Angelica seemed to be engrossed in her homework.

“Nothing,” Angelica replied, trying for a puzzled frown.

Eliza just raised her eyebrow, and Angelica slammed her book shut.

“Okay,” she conceded, “I had an emotional conversation with John, and I cried a little, but everything’s fine, really.”

Eliza dragged her desk chair close to her sister and sat down. “First of all, you didn’t cry ‘a little,’ and second, what kind of conversation was this? What were you talking about?”

Angelica stopped pretending. “About people dying. About knowing that people we love might die before this is over.” Her eyes filled up again.

“Damn, Ange …”

“I know.” Angelica swiped at her eyes impatiently. “It’s not that the thought never crossed my mind before, but only in the abstract. Today it just hit me that it could be Alex or John or … you, and I just lost it.”

Eliza reached over and took her hand. She held it tight and nodded. “I’ve thought about it, but we can’t just give up.”

“That’s what John said. He said that if he died for a belief or a person that was important to him, it would be worth it. I think that’s what really got me, knowing that he’d thought it all through in a way that I never had, and that it was okay with him.”

Eliza smiled. “That’s John,” she said. “We underestimate him. We don’t give him credit for being as serious as he is. He may seem impulsive, but he’s really not. I don’t think he ever does anything without having thought it through.”

“Yeah, he really made me do that today, made me examine my own assumptions.”

“I guess that’s something we all have to do.” She was silent for a minute, and then she recited, _“And one was safe and asleep in his bed, who at the bridge would be first to fall, who that day would be lying dead …”_

“What is that?” Angelica asked.

“Part of a poem we read in school. You don’t remember it?”

“No.” Angelica bit her lip. “It’s sad.”

“Yeah, but I think that’s what we’re talking about, that we can get up some morning, and it’s our last morning. We just don’t know.”

“John said pretty much the same thing. I guess I’m late on focusing on it. Anyway, we had this very deep, serious conversation, and I was crying, and we were saying that we loved each other, and that’s right when Patty walked in.”

Eliza gasped. “No! What did she think?”

Angelica could laugh at it now. “I’m pretty sure she thought she’d interrupted a clandestine love scene, John cheating on Alex with me. It wasn’t funny at the time,” she added, as Eliza started giggling.

“You’re not John’s type.”

“No kidding.”

“Good thing it wasn’t the other way around,” Eliza commented, still laughing.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if it had been you and Alex instead of you and John, it would have been harder to explain.”

Angelica’s face changed. “Shut up,” she said.

“Come on, Ange, I’m just joking.”

“Yeah, well, excuse me if I don’t find it hilarious.”

Eliza sat back in her chair and looked at her sister silently. Angelica fumbled at her textbook, trying to find the page she had been on.

“Still?” Eliza asked softly.

Angelica huffed angrily. “No, not _still_ , because there was never anything. Alex is a full-time job, and John’s welcome to it.”

“Ange …”

“I already told you to shut up. I’ve got to read this chapter tonight.”

 _Half the world’s in love with Alex,_ Eliza thought. _Me, John, Angelica. Maybe Ben. It’s like he’s the sun, and we all orbit around trying to stay in his light._ She shook her head, annoyed with herself for bringing it up with Angelica, and went to take a shower.

*          *          *          *          *

Alex had turned the music up to blast, and was whispering into John’s ear as they lay in bed. “Sorry,” he said, “but just in case …”

“It’s going to give me a headache,” John told him.

“I’ll try to keep it short.”

“You think there might be a camera?” John asked. “You know, because that’s what Dr. Barron told Angelica.”

Alex flushed. “I hope not.”

“Right. I don’t want us to turn up on some porn site.”

“All the porn sites were shut down by the government,” Alex reminded him.

John gave him a pitying look. “Obviously, you know nothing about hacking.”

“Really?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, of course. But maybe you can tell me what you have to tell me, and we can talk about porn later, yeah? Not that I don’t love Harry Styles …”

“You hate Harry Styles.”

“At this volume, I’d hate anything. Just give me the info so we can shut it off.”

“Okay. I met Dr. Barron out walking his dog, which he had sort of set up with Angelica. Apparently he knows the General from way back, and they’re in contact. I asked him if he seriously thinks his office is bugged, and he says he’s just about positive. Some things that were said there in confidence got to people who shouldn’t have known them. He’s pretty sure he’ll lose his job by the end of the year. As far as private residences like this, he doesn’t think it’s likely, but he advised us to take precautions.”

“Like Harry Styles at two hundred decibels.”

“Yeah.”

“What about Dr. Wilson? Does he know where he is?”

“No, and he’s really worried about him. The General hasn’t heard from him either. They hope he’s in hiding somewhere, but they just don’t know.”

“Damn. Anybody else missing?”

“Yeah, I’ll give you details later.”

“Did you get a chance to ask him about gender-specific classes? That’s going to affect a lot of people.”

“I did, but he doesn’t think that’s a battle worth fighting. Completing our education can wait, he says; restoring a free government can’t.”

“Okay, fair enough. I’ll change my major if I have to.”

“The really important thing, though …”

“What?”

“We need to get word to everybody else about the listening devices. We need to be sure nobody’s leaking information to the Greaters without even realizing it.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah. We’re sending everybody we can out as soon as possible so we can get word at least as far as Boston and Philly. And somebody’s got to go see TJ so he can get his tech genius on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to Harry Styles and his fans, but John doesn't like his music. There's no accounting for tastes.  
> The poem Eliza quotes is "Paul Revere's Ride" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. You've probably read it, but if you haven't, and if you have any interest in the early days of the American Revolution, take a few minutes to read it. Longfellow is far from my favorite, but he tells this story well, and there are a few good moments in it.   
> Thanks for your patience through the holidays. I should have more time for writing starting next week, and the pace picks up in this story.  
> Thanks as always for your kudos and comments. I wish you all a 2018 full of joy, peace, good health, and prosperity. And love. Lots of love.


	38. Always by Your Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim makes some decisions about Danny and gives Alex a Bible verse to read. Eliza surprises Alex. Danny gives John useful information. Gil figures something out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, apologies for taking forever to get this chapter together. We are at the point in the story where several story lines are going in different directions, and keeping the threads untangled can be a challenge. This is a chapter about relationships changing, maybe in good ways, maybe not, but, as some very smart person once said, change is the only constant. There will be a lot of that happening over the next few chapters, so buckle up.

John called Danny to arrange a time for his “art lesson,” a cover they had set up for Danny’s frequent visits. It wasn’t exactly a lie, as long as the definition of art included forgery. They told Danny about the university offices being bugged so that he could let Tim know.

“I doubt if the church is bugged, though,” Danny said. “We’ve just had a ton of work done to update the electrical system. They would have found something.”

“Unless the electricians were being paid by the Greaters,” John commented.

“Not a chance. We’ve only had people from the congregation do any of the work.”

“There can be corruption anywhere,” Alex reminded him.

Danny was outraged. “No. Our church was attacked and people died. Nobody’s working for the Greaters.”

They had to be satisfied with that, but Alex resolved to bring it up with Tim when he got a chance.

“What’s the latest about you moving to Tennessee?” John asked.

“I’m not going. I already told you that.”

“What’s your mom say?”

He shrugged. “She’s going anyway.”

“Well, that sucks,” said Alex without thinking.

“Nah, it’s not like that,” Danny responded. “I just told her if she took me there, I’d come back. I’m nearly sixteen. I can get a job.”

“Where are you going to live?” John asked, not unreasonably.

“I already told you. I’ll sleep at the church.”

John raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“No, listen, my mom’s signing some papers that make Rev my legal guardian. I don’t want to tell everybody because it sounds like she doesn’t want me or something, but that way I can stay with him or stay at the church.”

It all sounded very much like a fifteen-year-old’s fairytale, but Alex got a chance to talk to Tim about it on Friday when he met with him in the church office to explain that some Movement members were going to be traveling to Boston and Philadelphia.

“Eliza and I are going to Philly to talk to Tony,” he said.  “Gil and Patty are going to New Haven, then Patty and Nat will go up to Boston, since they already know everybody there.”

“Plus you’re doing what you can for young love.”

“Yeah, well, they should get to spend as much time together as they can.”

“Who would have thought Alex Hamilton had such a soft heart? Everybody else staying here?”

“Yeah, John and Angelica will be available in case anything comes up.” He changed the subject. “Danny says he’s moving into the church when his mom goes to Tennessee.”

Tim sighed. “It’s a bit problematic. You know we got a big donation after the shooting, right?”

Alex nodded.

“It was from somebody in France,” Tim went on, “somebody with no connection to St. Dismas at all. You know anything about it?”

“Me? I don’t know anybody in France.”

Tim raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Right, and Gil wouldn’t tell you anything?”

“Probably not.”

“Okay, however it came about, there’s enough money to make all the repairs, update the HVAC, and, if we want to, renovate some of the downstairs rooms into an apartment. It makes sense economically, since housing could be part of the pastor’s compensation. They could pay me less since I wouldn’t have to rent an apartment in the community.”

“So why do you sound like you have misgivings about it?”

Tim leaned back in his chair. “A couple of things. First, there’s no way to predict what might suit a future pastor in terms of living space. We can probably make a three-bedroom apartment, but the rooms will be small.”

“It’s New York. Most people would kill for a three-bedroom place, no matter how small it is.”

“Yeah, maybe. The other thing is more immediate, though.” He stopped and looked away, as if deciding what to say, then turned back to face Alex directly. “Danny’s Mom is willing to assign guardianship to me. We all know that even if she drags Danny to Tennessee, he’s going to continue to work in the Movement. She thinks he’ll be at least a little safer under my supervision, although I’m not sure she’s right about that. Anyway, she’s leaving New York no matter what, and I’m more than willing to become Danny’s legal guardian.”

“So?”

“So what’s the talk going to be if I move into the church apartment with a teenage boy? I’m twenty-seven, Danny’s nearly sixteen.”

Alex’s mouth twitched. “Ah, the old Batman and Robin question — are they or aren’t they?”

That brought a reluctant laugh from Tim. “Shut up,” he said. “And for the record, I like girls.”

“Well, there’s the simple solution then — find yourself a girlfriend.”

“Seriously, that’s your best advice?”

“No, that’s my most diplomatic advice. My best advice is fuck the gossip. Do what’s right for your congregation, Danny, and yourself, probably in that order.”

“I’ve been praying about it, and that’s the way I’m leaning, but I still have concerns.”

“Are the questions about your relationship with Danny going to come from people in your congregation, do you think?”

Tim shook his head. “I don’t think so – oh, there may be a few, but I was thinking more about what Danny might have to deal with at school or from his friends.”

“Have you talked to him about it?”

Tim looked pained and ran his hand over his face. “No.”

Alex started laughing. “Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed. Yo, Tim, it’s the twenty-first century.”

“I grew up in a conservative family …” Tim began.

“You have to talk to him. Danny’s no fool. He’ll have thought of the same thing.”

“You think?”

“He’s fifteen, not five. Plus, duh, he knows John and me.”

“That did cross my mind.”

A thought dawned on Alex. “Wait, were you thinking John and I could handle the discussion with Danny?”

Tin gave a halfhearted shrug. “I wouldn’t mind if you were around for back-up.”

“I’m leaving for Philly tomorrow morning, but feel free to call on John.”

“You think it’s funny, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I do, but I also know that this _Loving Moms and Dads_ bullshit that’s coming from the government has been a good excuse to ramp up homophobia. A few years ago, nobody would have noticed John and me, certainly not in New York. Now we get dirty looks and occasionally somebody yells at us. It’s not a big deal, but it may get worse. I can see where you don’t want to have to deal with that.”

“I’m okay, I just don’t want Danny to have to deal with it. He’s had enough already in his young life.”

“Where’s his father?” Alex asked.

Tim shook his head. “Who knows? Danny doesn’t remember him ever being around. I feel bad for his mom. She’s tried hard. Danny’s hard-headed. She hasn’t had an easy time raising him.”

“He said she was glad he was involved with a church instead of a gang.”

“Yeah, it’s a good thing I can play basketball.”

“What?”

“That’s what brought him in about four years ago. I’d just gotten here, wasn’t even fully ordained yet, still taking some night classes to finish up, but they were having a hard time finding somebody who wanted to take on a beat-up old church with a shrinking congregation. Anyway, afternoons, evenings when I didn’t have a class, I used to go down to the park and shoot hoops with whoever was there. Danny was there a lot, hanging around on the edges of things. There were some sketchy characters around the park too. I thought maybe I could give the kids an alternative.”

“And you did.”

“Well, our youth group membership didn’t exactly grow by the leaps and bounds that I envisioned, but maybe we kept a few kids from going down the wrong path – and Danny started following me around like a shadow.”

“You’ve been good for him, Tim.”

“I hope so. He seems to be committed to social justice, and that’s not a bad thing.” He looked Alex in the eye. “I wish he didn’t like guns so much.”

Alex nodded. “I’m not thrilled about that myself, but I could say the same thing about Gil and he’s five years older than Danny. Even John is perfectly happy to carry a gun around.”

“You don’t like guns any more than I do, do you?”

“No, but I’m more willing to use them than you are. Same goals, different paths, as we’ve said before.”

Tim looked at his phone. “I’ve got Mike Kelly coming at four,” he said. “He’s a contractor, neighborhood guy, I’ve known him for a few years. He’s going to give me an estimate for renovating the rabbit warren of rooms we’ve got now into a usable apartment.”

“How well do you know him?” Alex asked. “Is he a church member?”

“No, he doesn’t attend here. Nice guy, though; he’s given us breaks on repair costs over the years. He has a wife and a couple of little kids.”

“Just be careful,” Alex told him. “It would be easy to install listening bugs in here while they’re renovating.”

“I’m going to have to hire somebody, and I’d rather it be somebody from the neighborhood.”

“I know. The fact is, we can’t trust anybody, but we have to trust somebody sometimes.”

“Yeah.” Tim looked down at some notes he had scribbled on small pieces of paper. He picked one up and handed it to Alex. “This one’s for you.”

Alex looked at it. It said _Psalm 37:1-3_ in Tim’s handwriting. “You going to make me look it up?”

“Of course,” Tim said, sliding a Bible across the desk to him.

Alex paged through the book until he found the right passage. He looked at it and started to laugh. “Okay,” he said.

“Read it to me,” Tim said. “I need to hear it too.”

 _“Fret not thyself because of evildoers, neither be thou envious against the workers of iniquity. For they shall soon be cut down like the grass, and wither as the green herb.  Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land,”_ Alex read. “You believe that? You think the Greaters will soon be cut down like the grass?”

“I don’t know that your definition or my definition of _soon_ is the Lord’s definition, but yeah, I believe it. I believe love wins in the end. Our job now is, like it says, trust in the Lord and do good.”

“I’m working on that,” Alex said.

“I know.”

*          *          *          *          *

Alex was happy to leave the possibility of an awkward conversation with Tim and Danny to John, and head south to Philly with Eliza on Saturday morning. He had been reminded in a recent conversation with the General that he needed to keep his key people involved at all levels. He knew he relied too much on John, and almost as much on Angelica and Gil. That’s why, this trip, he was leaving John and Angelica behind and sending Gil only as far as New Haven. Eliza was just as smart as Angelica, but, having always been outshone by her confident, assertive older sister, she tended to let other people take the lead. Alex wanted to give her a chance to be out of Angelica’s shadow.

It was a pleasant ride to Philly with the trees starting to show off their autumn colors. They took Route 1 most of the way, Alex still preferring back roads to the interstate. He checked before they left to see what license plates John had put on the Kia this time. They were from Maryland, and the appropriate paperwork was in the glove compartment.

“Where the hell does John steal all these license plates from?” he muttered as he maneuvered the car out of New York City traffic.

“Have you asked him?” Eliza questioned.

“Of course.”

“And what does he say?”

“You know John. He just gives me that cute smile and says vague things like ‘Here and there.’”

“He doesn’t get caught, though.”

“No, thank God. He did tell me that he doesn’t so much steal them as trade them. He says people would notice right away if their plates were missing, but that’s not as likely if the plates have just been changed, especially if he’s careful about colors. He hates New York plates because they’re that bright orange-yellow.”

“He’s really smart,” Eliza said.

“Yeah, he is. He sees things in all kinds of creative ways.” He gave a half-embarrassed laugh. “I guess that’s what artists do, huh?”

“It’s easy to forget John’s an artist. If I didn’t know him, I’d think he was – I don’t know, an education major, maybe.”

“I can see that,” Alex agreed. “He’s good with kids – well, he’s good with Danny. I haven’t seen him around any other kids, but John doesn’t bullshit anybody. Kids can always see through that.”

“Does that come from your experience of being a kid?” Eliza asked, but smiling, not really serious.

“Yeah, kind of. I had to learn to recognize the bullshit.” He shrugged. “I spent some time in the foster care system …”

“I’m sorry, Alex,” Eliza broke in, her face red. “I had no idea …”

“No, it’s okay. It’s not a secret. The thing is, though, the people in charge of the system aren’t always honest with the kids in it. It … um, it makes it hard to trust people.”

Without thinking, she reached over and took his hand. He squeezed hers gently and then held on. After a few minutes, she began to feel self-conscious, and started to pull her hand away. “Don’t,” he said softly, not letting go. “It’s nice.”

And it was nice. There must have been other times when she’d held his hand for one reason or another, but not like this, the two of them alone in a car for hours, just holding hands. He ran his thumb back and forth over her fingers, and she tried to tell herself that it didn’t mean anything, that he wasn’t even paying attention to what he was doing. It didn’t matter, though, because it was like electricity shooting up her arm. She’d wanted Alex for more than a year now, and just the touch of his hand was going to make her fall apart. Here they were, nearly a hundred miles from home, with an important job to do, and the only thought in her mind was that his hand was warm and she never wanted him to let go.

“We should get some lunch,” Alex said casually. He pulled into the parking lot of a small restaurant, and had to release her hand to put the car in park.

She took a breath – of relief, she told herself, but when they got out of the car to go in, he took her hand again.

“Alex,” she said, her voice plaintive.

“What?” he asked, knowing perfectly well what she meant.

“Come on, behave yourself.”

“I think that’s the first time anybody said that holding hands wasn’t behaving myself. Usually, my behavior is a lot worse.”

She smiled in spite of herself. “That’s true, it is, but let’s not wait until you go further.”

He stopped on the little sidewalk from the parking lot to the restaurant and took her hand again, turning her to him. She looked up at him, and he was smiling. No man should be allowed to have such beautiful eyes, she thought, trying not to stare at them. Deep brown, deep enough to drown in, with thick straight black lashes.

“Hey,” he said softly, “it’s okay.” He cradled her head with his left hand and bent to kiss her, his lips warm and parted, and way, way too good at this.

 _I can’t,_ she thought frantically, just for a second, and then she did, melting into him, helpless to refuse him anything. He kissed with his whole mouth, lips, tongue and teeth, as thoroughly as if they were alone behind closed doors instead of on the side of Route 1 somewhere north of Philadelphia. Her response held a year’s worth of longing. She gave way to all the feelings she’d been repressing, passionately opening up to him and giving as much as she took. It set him back on his heels, and he was the one who broke the kiss finally, breathing hard. His hand was twisted in her hair now, and he held her head in place, gazing at her as if seeing her for the first time. “Oh, _Eliza,_ ” he murmured.

She stepped back, waking up. “I’m sorry,” she managed to stammer.

“Sorry?” he gasped. “ _Jesus._ Don’t be sorry.”

“We can’t do this, Alex,” she told him, her voice tight.

A family of five was walking up the sidewalk from the parking lot, and they had to get out of the way. Alex pulled her off the sidewalk onto the narrow strip of grass, and she kept her head down, wondering what the pleasant-looking family was thinking, wondering what kind of display she and Alex might have been putting on, because honest to God, she had been within seconds of grinding herself against him and shoving her hands into his pants.

She stared at her feet, telling herself that if she didn’t look at his eyes it would be easier, knowing that it wasn’t true. She got her breathing more or less under control, and then she said in what she hoped was her normal conversational voice, “I’m really not hungry. Can we just go straight through to Philly and meet Tony? We can eat later.”

Alex was smiling again, damn him. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice soft and coaxing and dangerous.

“Tell you what?” Even to her own ears that sounded idiotic.

“Does Angelica know?” he asked curiously.

That was too much. She grabbed his arms and looked up into his face, angry now. “Oh, for God’s sake, _everybody_ knows. Everybody except you, that is.”

“John knows?”

She couldn’t hold back the tears any more. “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably. Gil knows, and Herc, and of course Angelica, so somebody probably told him. I didn’t, though.” She gulped back a sob. “Can we just go? Let’s get back into the car and go talk to Tony about whatever we have to talk about, and then … go home. Let’s just pretend this never happened.”

He was still infuriatingly calm, with that thoughtful expression he got whenever he had a difficult assignment to work through. “I don’t think I can do that.”

She sniffed and tried to find a tissue in her purse. “Well, I think we’re going to have to.”

“No, we don’t. It’s okay.”

She turned away from him. “Did you lock the car?”

He pulled the keys out of his pocket and hit the unlock button. Eliza stayed ahead of him and got in first, buckling her seat belt and keeping herself as far to the right as she could. Alex got in and sat there for a minute. Then he turned to her. “I’m not going to try to touch you, I promise, but it’s not because I don’t want to. We’re going to have to talk, but you’re probably right that here and now isn’t the time or place. How about if we just get burgers or something at a drive-through so we don’t have to face each other across a table? We’ll go see Crazy Tony and his squad, and then when we get back home, we’ll talk.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

She knew, though, exactly what would happen if they were alone together to “talk.” She imagined Alex in her dorm room while Angelica was in class, imagined herself in the apartment while John was out somewhere. She knew something now that she hadn’t known before. She knew what Alex felt like, what he tasted like, and she knew how she reacted to him. She knew that if he ever touched her again, she’d go up in flames.

*          *          *          *          *

John had invited Tim and Danny over for dinner while Alex was out of town. He’d made chicken and rice, an easy meal for a South Carolina boy, and Tim was already on his second helping.

“You cook like this every day?” he asked.

“Nah, we get pizza a lot, but I like to cook, so when I’ve got time, I do.”

“I can’t cook,” Tim said regretfully.

“Damn, he ain’t kidding,” Danny corroborated.

“Grammar,” Tim reminded him automatically.

Danny rolled his eyes. “I know I said _ain’t,_ Rev. It’s not that I don’t understand that the third-person singular form of the verb should be _is_ , I just chose to employ a slang expression.”

John nearly fell off his chair laughing. “You just got owned, Tim.”

“Kid’s smart,” Tim admitted, giving Danny an affectionate grin. “Sometimes I forget how smart.”

Danny snickered, but directed himself to John. “If I’m going to run for Congress, I need to know how to speak and write well.”

“You’re planning to run for Congress?”

“Yeah, minimum age requirement is twenty-five, so I’ve got less than ten years to learn all I can about government, economic policy, and communication.”

“Good to know you’re on it,” John told him. “You’ll have my vote – well, at least if we have free elections by then.”

“You don’t think it’ll take ten years, do you?”

“Not really, but we’re nowhere near close yet.”

“Where’s Alex this weekend?” Tim asked.

John shrugged apologetically. “Sorry, need-to-know. We’re working on security, especially electronic security.”

“Alex did warn me about that.”

“Yeah, I’m hoping that somebody can give us some information on how to detect any … um, electronic security breaches.”

“You mean bugs?” Danny asked.

“Yeah,” John responded. No point in denying what Danny had already figured out.

“I assume you’ve got a jammer?”

“A what?” John looked at Tim, but he shook his head.

“An audio jammer. It generates white noise that masks conversation and desensitizes electronic bugs.”

“Uh, no, we don’t have one of those. We just played Harry Styles super-loud.”

“Jeez, John, you can get a jammer on the internet. Why torture yourself with Harry Styles?”

“Okay. I may not know what this thing is, but I can order something off the internet under a name that can’t be traced.”

“You should get a sniffer, too,” Danny suggested.

“Sure I should. What the hell is a sniffer?”

“It’s a radio frequency detector. Don’t you ever watch TV?”

“Apparently not the right shows.”

“You can’t buy a sniffer legally, but what you can do is buy a ‘hobby’ kit to make your own. They just sell the thing with a couple of parts not installed, and send the parts and instructions with it.”

“How do you know this shit?”

“TV, movies, spy novels. It’s no big deal.”

“Alex is going to be pissed if he gets home and finds out all he had to do was ask you.”

“He’ll know to check with me first next time.”

“Yeah, you’re going to the top of the reference list.” John stood up and started to clear the table. “Sorry there’s no dessert, but no sugar again. We’ve got apples, though.”

Danny followed him into the kitchen, put a stack of dirty dishes on the counter, and got three apples out of the fridge. John was loading the dishwasher and Danny stopped beside him, glancing over at Tim, who was reading something on his phone. Danny leaned an elbow on the counter and said quietly, “I think we’re about to have one of those serious conversations.”

John choked off a laugh and dropped a handful of forks, so he had to get on his knees to pick them up and wipe the floor. He looked up at Danny and said, “Behave yourself.”

Danny gave him a classic teenage eye-roll and sauntered back into the dining area. By the time John turned the dishwasher on, he had decided that it was time for everybody to stop treating Danny like the fifteen-year-old he was chronologically and start treating him like the twenty-year-old he acted like.

They sat down in the living room and John thought he might as well be the one to get the ball rolling. “Alex said you had a contractor ready to give you an estimate to renovate the downstairs of the church into an apartment. How did that go?”

“I think he’s asking a fair price,” Tim responded. “We’d end up with a kitchen, a living room, three bedrooms, and two baths. He’d leave the church office and the kitchenette that we use for church functions alone.”

“Sounds like you have a lot of square footage in that downstairs.”

“We do, really, and it’s a shame to waste it.”

“So why is there any hesitation?” John knew the answer, but he was going to let Tim tell him.

Tim shifted in his seat and glanced at Danny. “You know I’m Danny’s legal guardian now, right?”

John nodded. “Alex told me.”

“Well, what we’re considering is that the apartment in the church would be part of the pastor’s compensation. Since the renovations would be paid for by this donation, the church could pay me less if they provided housing. It would be helpful for me because right now I’m living in a really small one-bedroom apartment.”

“Sounds great,” John said, not helping out.

“Yeah,” Tim agreed, “it would be a much better place, all brand new and no commute.”

John didn’t say anything and the silence went on for a couple of minutes.

Finally Danny sighed loudly and leaned forward. He spoke to John in a loud stage whisper. “Rev’s afraid that if I move in with him, people will think we’re gay.”

John did his best to stifle his laughter while Tim sputtered and stammered. He replied to Danny in the same fake whisper. “So you came to talk to a gay guy about the problem, ‘cause, you know, I’m an expert on all the gay shit?”

“Yep, that’s it,” Danny said.

By now Tim had his head in his hands. “Stop!” he implored. “Okay, I give up. I admit I handled this all wrong and that it’s impossible to keep anything from Danny.”

“Right,” Danny told him, aiming a well-placed kick at his ankle. “Do I look like a moron?”

“No, no, of course not. I was just misled by the fact that you’re fifteen.”

“Fifteen going on thirty,” John laughed.

“So you’d already thought about the possibility of gossip and how it might affect you?” Tim asked Danny.

“Duh, of course. I mean, anytime two guys live together, people are going to make assumptions, and you’re not _that_ old.”

John started laughing again and waved at Tim encouragingly. “Go ahead,” he said.

Tim looked from Danny to the picture of the angel on the wall, and then to John. “I’ve been praying about this, you know. Looks like I’ve got an answer.”

“So am I getting a room?” Danny inquired.

“Yeah, you are, and you’re going to give me gray hair before I’m thirty.”

Danny looked at him affectionately, all the cockiness gone. Then he looked at the angel picture and said, “Thanks, Gabriel.”

“Gabriel?” Tim asked.

Danny shrugged, half smiling. “You’re not the only one who’s been praying.”

*          *          *          *          *

Patty liked Gil, and it was easy riding with him, since he was willing to talk or not, depending on what she wanted to do. It was a pleasant ride, with the trees along the highway showing bright autumn colors, but more than anything else, she was looking forward to seeing Nat. All of their friends were great about taking messages and letting Patty use their phones, but that didn’t allow them much privacy. No matter how many real pen-and-paper love letters tied with pink ribbon she had in her desk, there was no substitute for face-to-face communication.

Gil would be staying in New Haven to catch Ben up on things, while she and Nat took Nat’s car up to Boston. They’d be staying with the Ludingtons again, but they would have plenty of time alone together, and she was thankful for that. There was a lot to talk about.

They got to New Haven mid-morning, and Patty texted Nat on Gil’s phone as they pulled into the parking lot of a newer building a few blocks from the Yale campus. Nat came down to meet them and pulled Patty into his arms before he even bothered saying hello to Gil. Gil leaned against his car, smiling. Love was something he approved of.

Nat finally let Patty go, and Gil heard him say softly, “How are you feeling, girl?”

She looked up at him with a small smile. “Good. Well, mostly good, you know.”

Nat kissed her forehead and kept his arm around her, and then finally seemed to recollect himself enough to speak to Gil. “Come on up,” he said, grabbing Patty’s overnight bag. “Third floor, no elevator. Sorry.”

Gil didn’t mind. He followed Nat and Patty up the three flights of stairs, watching them. _Well_ , he thought, _that’s interesting. I wonder if Alex knows._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot going on. What's going to happen between Alex and Eliza? I suspect Angelica will express her opinion on that situation.   
> Probably most of you have figured out the same thing Gil did at the end of the chapter, but if you haven't, all will be made clear soon.  
> I hope that 2018 has started off well for you and that it will be a wonderful year.  
> Thanks to all of you lovely people who have left kudos and comments. I love hearing from you!


	39. Give Me a Position

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex meets with Tony and then TJ. Eliza goes back to New York alone. Patty and Nat go to Boston. Solutions to the electronic listening are identified.

Alex didn’t talk much the rest of the way to Tony’s, and when he did, it was about generalities. Eliza mostly responded in monosyllables, trying to persuade herself that nothing would be different now. There was no way she could avoid seeing Alex without taking herself out of the Movement and transferring to another college. She wasn’t going to do that. She would just have to be absolutely sure she was never alone with him. Angelica would help if she asked her. Angelica already thought Alex was dangerous. She’d be more than willing to play bodyguard.

They were meeting Tony at Molly and Will Hays’s apartment. If anybody asked, they were just visiting friends. Tony introduced them to Will and Molly, who still qualified as newlyweds, since they’d been married less than six months. Eliza thought they were adorable together, trying hard to be casual, but still giving each other loving looks and the occasional kiss. They had a tiny apartment in an old brick building not too far from the Penn campus. There was barely room for five of them in the living room, even with Alex and Will on the floor, but they managed, and it was obvious that Alex and Tony were glad to see one another. There was coffee and tea, and Molly had even baked oatmeal-raisin cookies, so Alex settled in contentedly.

“Where did you get enough sugar for cookies?” Eliza asked.

“I lucked out and found some a couple of weeks ago and just held onto it,” Molly told her. “We don’t take sugar in tea or coffee, so I used it for the cookies. They don’t need a lot of sugar because of the raisins.”

“These are great!” Alex said. “It’s been ages since I’ve had cookies.”

“The way to Alex’s heart,” Eliza commented without thinking. Alex was on the floor at her feet, and he grinned up at her. She wished she hadn’t said anything.

“Listen,” Tony interrupted, “I think you need to go talk to TJ about these bugs in the university offices. I haven’t heard anything about them here, but if the Greaters have bugged Columbia, they’ve bugged Penn and every place else where professors were involved with sending students to the internship program.”

“Definitely,” Alex agreed, “especially because TJ has a tech genius in his squad. There might be things we can do to detect the bugs or disable them. I don’t have a clue about any of that stuff.”

“You’re going to have to learn,” Tony said. “A lot of this resistance is going to be done digitally.”

Alex nodded. “You’re right. I have some catching up to do.”

“Will’s good at this stuff. He does most of our hacking.”

Will smiled modestly. “I do what I can to screw things up for the Greaters.”

“John got into their work schedules and totally fucked up their overtime pay,” Alex said.

“Oh, perfect,” Tony grinned. “Do you know how he did it?”

Alex shook his head. “No, but I guess I should pay more attention. We all need to know how to get into their networks.”

“Listen,” Tony said, “the best person to organize all this is TJ’s tech genius, whoever that may be. Somebody’s got to get to Norfolk and have a conversation with him, the sooner the better.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Maybe I should have planned to go there instead of here.”

Tony took out his phone. “Maybe it’s not too late. Maybe TJ can meet you somewhere halfway.” He tapped in _927 needs confer 836 can be halfway 816/243 depart now?_ And showed it to Alex.

“I need to confer with TJ and want to meet him halfway between Philly and Norfolk if I depart now. Okay, that works.”

Tony sent it, and they caught up on other information while they waited for a response from TJ.

“Did you hear Abbie might be leaving Boston?” Tony asked.

Alex was surprised. “What? No, what’s up? How’d you find out?”

“One of the Boston guys is a jeweler, and he has a legit reason to travel. He was in Philly for a design show and stopped by to talk to me. It seems Abbie’s boyfriend is going to be doing second semester abroad in France, and she’s applied too so they can go together.”

“Are you kidding me? What kind of commitment to the Movement is that?”

“Patty and Nat didn’t really like Abbie’s boyfriend,” Eliza put in.

“Nobody likes him,” Tony commented in disgust, “except maybe Abbie.”

“Patty and Nat are on their way to Boston now,” Eliza said. “Maybe they’ll have an update when we get back to New York.”

“That would leave Ethan in charge of Boston,” Alex added, “which is fine, but he’ll need to bring in a couple more people to replace Abbie. Damn, she’s one of the smartest people I know; what the hell is she thinking, leaving in the middle of this?”

Tony shrugged. “Love,” he murmured, with a glance at Will and Molly.

“Nuh-uh, don’t even,” Molly snapped. “You know Will and I are in this for as long as it takes.”

“What if Will was leaving the country?” Alex asked. “No offense, but I’m genuinely curious. How would you manage something like that?”

Molly looked at Will and smiled. “It couldn’t happen. I couldn’t have married somebody who wasn’t as fully committed to the Movement as I am.”

Alex nodded, satisfied. “That’s the way I see it. This isn’t something I could compromise on.”

“Same,” Eliza said. “We can’t abandon something this important.”

Alex looked up at her with a smile and reached for her hand. He’d told her he wouldn’t try to touch her, and here he was, in front of people, making it impossibly awkward. She took his hand briefly and then dropped it, and saw his expression change. She couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or if he regretted his gesture. Either way, this was going to be exhausting.

Tony’s phone chimed and he checked the incoming text. _836 can be 732 usual w 927 5 hours lodging avail._ He showed it to Alex.

“What’s 732?” Alex asked.

Tony grimaced. “Richmond. It’s not exactly halfway. About a four-hour drive. The usual place is a diner off ninety-five. Looks like he’s thinking you’d stay overnight and then head back to New York tomorrow.”

“Trust TJ not to go too far out of his way for my convenience. Still, I think we should go. Somebody’s going to have to coordinate the digital stuff. Right now we’re all reinventing the wheel.”

Eliza’s stomach was full of butterflies. What did he mean, _we?_ There was no way she was going to Richmond with Alex and spending the night. No matter what kind of arrangements TJ might have set up, she didn’t trust either her own resolve or Alex’s self-discipline.

“I can’t go,” she said, trying to keep her voice matter-of-fact. “I have a paper due Monday that I’ve barely started, so I was planning on finishing it tomorrow. I have to go back to New York tonight.”

Alex raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question her. “Would you mind taking the train back?” he asked.

“No, that would be fine,” she replied, wishing things were different, wanting desperately to go with him. “Do you think you should go by yourself, though?”

Alex shrugged. “I’ll be okay.”

“You know the General doesn’t like that,” Tony reminded him. “Protocol is nobody travels alone.”

“I know, but this isn’t some dangerous mission. I’m just going to talk to TJ.”

“What about between here and there?” Will asked.

“I don’t think it matters much. Patty and Nat got stopped when they were together in a very recognizable vehicle. I can’t see that I’ll be in any particular danger alone in my Kia.”

Will looked at Tony. “You nailed it,” he said.

“What?” Alex asked.

“I may have mentioned that you’re always sure that you’re right,” Tony told him. “Even if you’re directly contradicting the General, you’re sure you’re right.”

Alex glared at him for a full fifteen seconds, then blew out a breath and said calmly, “Fuck you.” He stood up and paced a few steps, then looked at Eliza. “You sure you can’t get that paper done in an afternoon? I could help you.”

There was no paper. She had made up the excuse in the moment. “No, I’ve got to get back.” She knew he would persuade her if he kept talking, so she excused herself to the bathroom so she wouldn’t have to listen to him. She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, angry at her own weakness, longing to go with him, to be alone with him in a room somewhere, anywhere. She threw cold water on her face and put on some lipstick, trying to tell herself that she’d be glad she didn’t give in to her emotions. _How will you feel about it later?_ was a question her parents had asked when they talked to her and Angelica and Peggy about decision making. _“When you look back on it, will you be glad or sorry? Will it make you feel proud or ashamed?” Catherine had asked when thirteen-year-old Eliza had gotten snagged for cutting math class, and Eliza had dissolved in tears._ How would she feel if she went to Richmond with Alex, knowing full well what would happen? How could she face John? How could she justify it, even to herself? She took a deep breath and went back to the living room.

Alex was still standing, and he turned and smiled at her. “Will’s going to Richmond with me,” he said. “We’ll take you to the train station first.”

*          *          *          *          *

Patty and Nat were cuddling on the couch, and Gil was regarding them with approval. Ben, on the other hand, looked a little irritated.

“You need to know this stuff, too, Nat,” he said.

“I’m listening,” Nat defended himself. “I don’t have to be looking at you to pay attention.”

“It is understandable that he would rather look at Patty than you,” Gil told Ben. “She is much prettier.”

Patty fell into a fit of giggles, and Ben snapped, “What are you, their attorney?”

“Even if Nat doesn’t get all the details, you can tell him later,” Gil said. “After all, they will have only today and tomorrow together, and they haven’t seen each other in – how long?”

“Three weeks,” Nat responded. “Three very long weeks.” He kissed Patty.

Gil smiled indulgently, and Ben gave an exasperated sigh. “Fine. Tell me what we need to be looking for, and I’ll catch Nat up when I can have his full attention.”

Gil explained about the bugging of offices at Columbia and the likelihood that the same thing was being done at Yale and the other universities. “We can’t even be sure about our apartments. We are trying to meet in public places, or to play music loudly to cover conversations, but it is not very practical. We are hoping that there are better ways to prevent information from getting out, but for now, we must all take precautions. Alex is hoping to consult the person who works with TJ, the one they call the tech genius, about how to detect these things. He is in Philadelphia now meeting with Tony.”

Ben nodded. “It’s not quite as difficult here as it is for you guys or for the Boston group. There aren’t many of us here, and technically, we’re under Boston’s direction. Oh, and we’ve had some information from Boston that I don’t like.”

“What is that?”

“Paul Revere stopped in on his way to a jewelry show in Philadelphia. Abbie’s leaving Boston, so Ethan’s going to have to handle things there by himself, at least for now.”

“Leaving Boston?” Gil asked, frowning. “Why?”

Ben rolled his eyes. “She and her boyfriend are both going to study abroad next semester. In France, as a matter of fact.”

 _“Ah, bon? Je me demande pourquoi ils choisissent ce moment_. Ah, sorry … I am wondering why they choose this time to go. This is not helpful to their country.”

“No argument from me,” Ben said. “According to Paul, it’s more the boyfriend’s thing than Abbie’s, but she’s going along.”

“You know,” Patty put in from across the room, “Mrs. Ludington said that Abbie did pretty much whatever her boyfriend wanted. She sounded disgusted about it.”

“How difficult does this make it for Ethan?” Gil asked.

“He’ll be okay,” Ben said. “He’ll need to rearrange things, I’m sure, get people to do different jobs, I guess. Paul said he was working on that. Nat and Patty will see what they can find out tonight and tomorrow. They’re staying with the Ludingtons again, so they’ll get all the information they can, and then we’ll update Alex.”

Gil nodded. “I hope that there will be some simpler way to communicate soon. It’s already very complicated trying to use the code, when the use of a code is itself a reason for suspicion. Now with the possibility of electronic listening, communication becomes even more difficult. We can’t continue going back and forth between cities like this. It’s too time-consuming and too dangerous.”

“I agree. We have to simplify communication. We can’t depend on Nat and Patty going shopping for maple sugar or Paul Revere going to a design show. That works for routine stuff, but God help us if there’s an emergency.” Ben stopped and sighed. “It’s going to get worse when the travel restrictions go into effect.”

King’s latest “security” measure would become law on November first. It allowed Greaters to stop anyone using any means of travel – plane, train, car, or, as John had put it, “a fucking skateboard” – and inquire why they were traveling. If the Greaters deemed the reason for travel insufficient, they could require the travelers to return to their point of departure. King’s lackeys had touted this as not only a security measure, but an environmental one, saving energy and reducing pollution. Those in the Movement recognized it as further restriction on the rights of citizens.

“But business trips will still be allowed, right?” Patty asked anxiously. “I’ll still be able to shop for things Betsy needs, right?”

“Who knows?” Ben asked rhetorically. “Maybe they’ll say Betsy could order her ingredients online or from a catalog. The whole law is ridiculous because they leave so much up to the judgment of the Greaters. They can decide however they please. If ever a law was an invitation to bribery, this is it.”

Patty thought back to the time that she and Nat had been jailed in Pennsylvania. One of those Greaters had been open to bribery, but he wasn’t looking for money. She shuddered and moved closer to Nat.

“Another thing,” Ben continued, “and be sure you pass this on to Alex, this is all the more reason that nobody ever travels alone on Movement business. At the very least, with two or more, there will always be a witness.”

*          *          *          *          *

Eliza sat on the train staring blindly at her phone. She had texted Angelica but hadn’t heard back from her. Not that she was going to have a text conversation with Angelica about Alex, she just wanted to let her know she was on her way.

Alex and Will had dropped her off at the 30th Street Station, Alex parking the car illegally and leaving the keys with Will so he could walk her into the station. She tried to keep her distance, but he had put his arm around her shoulders as they entered the building, and she didn’t want to make a public scene. She moved away from him as they approached the ticket counter and turned toward him to just say a friendly goodbye.

He was smiling, and he took both her hands in his. His hands were warm, and his touch did exactly what it had done before.

“I’ll be back in New York tomorrow, Monday at the latest. Let John know, okay?”

She nodded. “Sure,” she said, thinking that if she only spoke in monosyllables, he wouldn’t notice that her voice was shaking.

He pulled her toward him, and she didn’t resist. He bent down and kept his voice soft. “Please don’t be scared of me, sweetheart.” Then he had kissed her, and she hadn’t resisted that either.

Now she was angry, both with him and with herself, angry and frustrated and trying to imagine how she would find her way through this. _Let John know_ , he had said casually, as if he were not risking John’s happiness right at that moment. Last January, Alex had blown up his relationship with John, and the fallout from that had affected all of them. The damage had taken months to repair, and Angelica still didn’t fully trust him. Now, with his critical role in the Movement to consider, would he really take a chance on doing that again? Or was he thinking he could fool around with her and John would never know?

She felt her face burn with shame at the thought of that. Eliza Schuyler was nobody’s piece on the side. If she had given Alex that impression – and maybe she had – she needed to correct it immediately. She knew she’d have to have herself under control to discuss that with him. She’d have to know exactly what she was going to say. She started thinking about how she could do that, trying to find the right words when she knew perfectly well that she didn’t want to say them.

*          *          *          *          *

“I’m glad we’re getting another visit to Boston,” Patty said, holding Nat’s right hand while he steered with his left. “It’ll be nice to see Sybil again.”

Nat smiled. “And her mom. At least we won’t have any awkward conversations about how many beds we need this time.” He squeezed her hand. “Did you talk to your mom?”

“Mm-mm. I want to wait. I don’t want her presenting me with ten alternatives. We already know what we’re going to do, so time enough to tell her when we’ve done it.”

Nat leaned far enough right to bring her hand to his lips and kiss it.

“Keep your attention on the road, boy!” she told him, laughing.

“Okay, fine. Talk to me about something else. How’s work?”

“Good. I’m lucky to have a boss like Betsy. She pretty much lets us set up our own schedules, so Deb and Mark can work theirs around their classes, and I can get my hours whenever I want.”

“And you work with nice people.”

Patty hesitated before she answered. “Yeah, mostly.”

Nat glanced over at her, frowning. “What?”

“Oh, nothing, really. Mark can be a pain is all.”

“How?”

She shrugged. “Just stupid stuff. He asks me about twice a week if we’re still together.”

“Really? Is he hitting on you?”

“No, not really, and if he did, I’d smack him down easily enough. He tries to be sympathetic, talking about how hard it must be with the long distance thing. Duh, it’s three hours, not three days. I don’t think it means anything except that he’s an idiot with poor social skills.”

Nat let out a crack of laughter. “Damn, you sound like Angelica. Have you by any chance discussed this with her?”

Patty started laughing too. “I might have.”

“Good. She’s all the back-up you’ll ever need.”

“I know, right? Anyway, other than Mark – and really, he’s not that bad – work is busy. Did I tell you Betsy’s planning to hire somebody else?”

“No. that’s good, isn’t it? It means the business is doing well?”

“Yeah, it really is. We could use at least two more people, even since I’ve gone to full time. She’s been interviewing, but I don’t think she’s found the right person yet.” Patty hesitated. “She wants to be sure it’s somebody sympathetic to the Movement, since so much goes on at Betsy’s, but you can’t exactly ask somebody their political views when they apply for a job.”

“Very true, especially if you’re on the side that opposes the government.”

“There was a guy named Johnny who came in the other day for an interview. He knows Herc, so Betsy was going to check with him. She’d like to have another guy besides Mark, I think, so it doesn’t seem like a ‘girly’ place.”

“I guess that makes sense, although I would never have thought of it. I’ll have to keep it in mind if I ever have a business that deals with the public.”

Patty smiled at him. “If you ever have a business, it will be a bookstore, so I doubt if that would be a problem. Bookstores are kind of unisex.”

“True, and I don’t actually plan on opening a business anyway. I just want a nice classroom full of kids who are eager to learn everything about Shakespeare.”

“I’m sure you’ll have one. You’ll be a good teacher.” Patty looked over at him. Sometimes Nat seemed almost embarrassed that he wanted to be a high school teacher, when his friends were talking about law school and medical school and political careers, but he’d wanted to teach English since he was in middle school. He would always be grateful to the teacher who had introduced him to the _Odyssey_ in eighth grade.

Nat took his eyes off the road again for a second to smile at her. “We’ll never be rich.”

She shrugged. “That was never one of my goals.”

Nat was looking at the road again, but he was still smiling. “Another reason why I love you, girl.”

They went straight to Sybil’s house this time, since she had arranged for everyone to meet there. As it turned out, only some of the people they had met on their first visit showed up. Abbie was absent, as was her boyfriend John, John’s cousin Sam, and Sarah Fulton. That meant only Ethan, Paul Revere, Sybil, and Sybil’s boyfriend Eddie Ogden were in attendance.

Nat faced the issue head on. “Are you going to be able to recruit more people?” he asked Ethan.

“Yeah,” Ethan assured him, “and anyway, it’s not as bad as it looks. Sam is still very much with us, but he had to work tonight. Sarah may not be as deeply involved as some of us, but she’s reliable when we need her.”

“But Abbie and John?”

Ethan shrugged uncomfortably. “They’ll only be away for a semester. We’ve got other people who can pick up the slack – Matt Lyon and Seth Warner particularly. You didn’t meet them last time, and neither one of them could be here tonight, but they’re both totally committed.”

“So that’s what I should pass along to Alex?”

“Absolutely. It’s what I’ve already passed on to the General.”

“Okay, good,” Nat said. “We were a little concerned that there might be problems.”

Ethan sighed. “I’m not going to lie to you, I’ll miss Abbie. She’s by far the smartest person I know, but nobody except Sam could get along with John Adams. He’s so damned touchy you can’t open your mouth without offending him.”

“We don’t need drama, God knows,” Sybil put in.

“For sure,” Paul added. “Honestly, as much of a loss as Abbie is, not having to deal with John may make things go more smoothly here.”

Nat turned to him. “We all appreciate you using your business travel to help communicate, I know it exposes you to more risk …”

“Don’t even say it,” Paul interrupted him. “I’ve been going to these design shows since I was sixteen, learning the business to work with my dad. If I stop to have coffee or lunch with an old friend, nobody’s going to notice.”

Nat wasn’t so sure about that, but he let it slide. “Okay, then,” he said, “it looks like you guys have everything together. Now tell me everything you know about electronic surveillance.”

There had, in fact, been some reports of listening devices being hidden in professors’ offices, just as there had been at Columbia, so Ethan was about in the same place as Alex. “We need to learn how to detect them and how to disable them,” he said. “In the meantime, we’re trying to be cautious and not meet regularly in one place. What’s Alex doing?”

Nat explained that Alex was meeting with Tony and that they were planning to contact TJ and try to come up with a plan that all of them would be able to use.

“Knowing that the government can monitor any communication makes everything a thousand times harder,” Ethan said, the frustration evident in his voice. “Phones aren’t safe and now not everybody has phones since they have to be licensed.”

“I don’t,” Patty told him. “I’m not in college, and I don’t have a position of any authority at work, so I couldn’t get a license.”

“Of course, the goal is to make sure that eventually only the Haves can get phones,” Sybil remarked.

“Yeah,” Nat agreed. “If people can’t communicate, they can’t organize. King wants us divided, not united.”

“That’s why we’re doing this,” Ethan reminded him.

Nat thought back to that meeting with President Washington. In some ways, it seemed like it had been ages ago; in others, like it was only yesterday. The President had put an enormous responsibility on the shoulders of a group of young people, but they had all accepted it, and now they had to carry it out. He looked at Patty with her soft dark hair and big brown eyes, and thought about the future they were planning together. For a moment he wished that he could drop out of the Movement and just live his life without having to worry about how to outwit the Greaters and depose King’s government. Only for a moment, though, because he realized that unless rights were restored and free elections held, there would be no future for any of them. He put his arm around Patty and gave her a kiss. She smiled up at him and said just loudly enough for him to hear it, “I love you, boy.”

*          *          *          *          *

Alex and Will met TJ at an unassuming diner just north of Richmond. They got a booth near the back, and Alex introduced Will to TJ, then studied the menu intently.

TJ gave him a couple of minutes, then sighed and said, “Just get a burger or something. We’re not here for the food.”

“I had a burger for lunch,” Alex told him, “and we’re going to have to eat dinner anyway, so I might as well get something I like.”

“You want to pull your attention away from the sandwich listings and tell me why you wanted this meeting first?” TJ asked.

“Oh, okay, fine.” Alex took one more look before closing the menu. “Corned beef special,” he announced, and looked around casually. No one was seated at nearby tables. “We’ve had some problems with listening devices.”

The waitress showed up just then, so he waited till she had taken their order and was out of earshot.

“We know bugs have been placed in some professors’ offices,” he continued, “but we don’t know if they’re anywhere else.”

TJ nodded. “I think you can assume they are. I’m not surprised because we’ve had the same thing going on. I can tell you right now, you’re going to need two things for every location, a jammer and a sniffer.” He went on to explain what the devices were and how they worked. “You can get them on the internet, but I’d recommend you not use Amazon or any other well-known shopping site, even if you shop under fake identities.”

“So where do we buy them, then?”

TJ pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and pushed it across the table. “These are a few sites you might want to start shopping on.”

Alex examined the paper. “Rachel’s Rosebuds? One-Stop Sock Shop? _Le Beau Bébé?_ Are you kidding me?”

TJ smiled. “It’s not just human beings who have fake IDs these days. Websites have been set up to sell all kinds of things that King doesn’t want us to have. They use names like these – oh, and they do, in fact, sell artificial flowers, socks, and baby clothes. If you enter _electronics_ in the search field, though, it will take you to some pages that aren’t available to people just browsing the site.”

“No shit?”

“Try it,” TJ told him.

Alex took out his phone and went to the One-Stop Sock Shop site. There were several pages of socks for sale, but nothing else until he typed _electronics_ in the search field. That opened more pages showing a variety of electronic devices, including phones.

“We can buy phones on here?”

“Yeah, for now. Listen, all of these darkweb sites get taken down after a short time, maybe a few weeks at best. Of course the people who run them just set up another one, but it’s hard to keep finding the new ones unless you know how to get into the darkweb yourself, and I still can’t do that.”

“You know somebody who can, though, right?”

“Yeah, but for now, that person is in deep cover, not working with us openly.”

“Okay, that makes sense,” Alex said, nodding. “Is there any way we can contact him directly, though, if we need to?”

TJ started to say something, then hesitated. “No. We have to keep that person safe, so it’s strictly need to know. I’ve talked to the General about it. He’s the only other one who has the contact info, so I assume if I get taken out by a sniper at some demonstration, he’ll get it to somebody else.”

Alex was more than a little irritated that TJ knew something he didn’t, but did his best to conceal it. After all, he couldn’t dispute the General’s decision. “So I should order these things as soon as possible, right?” he asked.

“Definitely,” TJ nodded. “Get as much as you can before these websites disappear. I don’t have to tell you to use different names and addresses.”

“And it’s okay to pass this information on to Tony and Ben and Ethan?”

“Yeah, it can go to anybody who’s been cleared.”

“How will we get information on new websites when these are gone?”

“Let’s just say if I text or write you anything about a website, it’s not what it appears to be. Like if I tell you I bought my mom a cookbook at cookbook corner dot com, just assume it’s a darkweb site. I’ll do my best to make sure you’ve got at least one site available all the time.”

Their waitress arrived with their sandwiches, and Alex took a big bite of his corned beef special before he spoke. “Are there other darkweb things we could use?” he asked. “Things like email?”

TJ shook his head regretfully. “Not that my tech person has been able to find. We can text on the phones, though. And that brings up the other thing I need to tell you about. We’re going to set up a sort of tutorial by texts. The General wants at least one person in each group to become proficient at hacking websites and changing online data.”

“John’s good at that,” Alex said. “He messed up the Greaters’ overtime pay.”

TJ grinned at that. “Good for him,” he said, “but isn’t John the one who makes all the IDs and forged documents?”

“Yeah,” Alex nodded. “He’s good at a lot of things.”

“Doesn’t it seem to you that maybe somebody else ought to take over the hacking then? We need to spread these responsibilities out so that nobody gets overwhelmed.”

Alex was silent, staring at his plate. Had TJ just reminded him that he was taking John for granted again, assuming that because John was good at everything, he would _do_ everything? Much as he hated to admit it, TJ was right. John was the only one who could make the IDs, so somebody else was going to handle the hacking. He looked across the table at TJ. “You’re right. Tell your tech person to send me the hacking tutorial. I need to learn to do it.”

TJ knew Alex well enough to know that it hadn’t been easy for his to say that. He gave him a half smile. “Me too,” he said. “Looks like we’re both going to be learning new skills.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everybody will soon have jammers and sniffers. Alex is going to learn serious hacking skills as the Movement becomes more cohesive. Betsy will hire at least one new employee.  
> What particular plans do Patty and Nat have? When will everyone else find out about those plans?  
> How is Eliza going to handle Alex? Or maybe the real question is how is Eliza going to handle her feelings for Alex? Should she talk to Angelica about this? How much does John know?  
> Thanks so much for comments and kudos. I love hearing from you, and I'm always interested in hearing what you think might happen next.


	40. Watching the Tension Grow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliza has some trouble on the train. Alex doesn't follow protocol. Nat and Patty get some time together. Marty Middicks has a surprising request.

When the train pulled into the station in Trenton, Eliza wished again that she had gotten an express, but there weren’t many available on weekends, so she was stuck with the frequent stops. Angelica had texted her back, but they’d just exchanged a few brief messages. She wasn’t going to open a serious conversation by text. Anyway, what was she going to say? _“Alex kissed me?”_ And then Angelica would want to know if she’d slapped him, and she would have to say, _“No, I kissed him back. I kissed him the same way he kissed me, until he was the one who pulled away. It took every ounce of strength I have not to go to Richmond with him, and I know I won’t be able to keep being this strong. What will I do?”_

She shifted restlessly in her seat, wishing she could go to sleep, but every time she closed her eyes, she saw Alex looking down at her, his thick lashes shadowing his cheekbones, his half-smile as he whispered, “Don’t be scared of me.”

Oh, Alex. If only she could tell him the truth. She could never be scared of him. It was herself she was afraid of.

Why was the train stopping so long? She had a headache, and she just wanted to get to her room, take a couple of Advil and lie down. She wouldn’t have to talk to Angelica right away if she was lying down with a headache. It was useless to think there was any way she could conceal her emotions from Angelica, but she needed time to work out exactly what she was going to say.

The door at the end of the train car crashed open, and Eliza looked up, startled to see a squad of Greaters, guns drawn.

*          *          *          *          *

“So you’re still going to do what the General said not to do,” Tony said, throwing up his hands in anger. “You’re going to drive back to New York alone.”

“It’s not the same,” Alex defended himself. “I’m not going on a Mission, I’m just going home.”

“You know, Eliza could have stayed here overnight and then gone back with you. In fact, Molly asked her.”

Alex turned to Molly. “You did?”

“Sure,” Molly said. “She said she had a paper to do, but she wouldn’t have lost more than a couple of hours if she’d stayed here. I mean, either way, she’d be asleep, right?”

Alex nodded. He hadn’t quite believed the excuse about the paper himself, since Eliza hadn’t mentioned it before. It would have been nice if she’d gone to Richmond with him, much nicer than sharing a room with Will Hays had been. Nothing against Will, of course, he was a good guy, but if it had been Eliza … “Well, it doesn’t really matter now, does it? Eliza’s back in New York, and I’ve got to get there since I have classes tomorrow. It’s only a couple of hours, and I’ll stay on the Interstate. More witnesses in case anything goes on.”

“Either Molly or I could go with you,” Will offered, “and then take the train back.” Traveling alone on public transportation was still pretty safe.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, I don’t need a babysitter,” Alex snapped.

“Fine, then,” Tony said, putting an end to it. “You do your thing, Alex. Just be sure you’ve got somebody appointed to take over if you get yourself killed.”

“No worries,” Alex retorted. “Just call Angelica Schuyler.” He slammed out of the apartment and down the stairs, wondering why everybody acted like he couldn’t make an intelligent decision on his own. He’d only be on the road for a couple of hours, and even if he did get stopped, he had all his paperwork. He took a quick look at the Maryland tags on the Kia to remind himself of the numbers, and then got into the car.

He checked the dashboard clock as he pulled onto ninety-five north. It was still early. It occurred to him that he could save everybody some time if he drove straight up ninety-five to New Haven. He could give Ben the website information, then head back to New York in time for a late dinner with John. It would only cost him a few more hours today, and then Ben could get the information to Boston that much faster. It made much more sense to do it all in one trip. He settled in for the drive to Connecticut.

*          *          *          *          *

There was enough light in the room to see, but it wasn’t bright. Nat wasn’t sure if that was because it was really early or because it was cloudy outside. He couldn’t reach for his phone to check because Patty was asleep, and he was lying still so he wouldn’t wake her. Her hair had fallen across her face, and he wanted to touch it just because it was so soft and he loved the way it felt in his hand. _No,_ he told himself. _She needs sleep._

She was turned toward him, her hands tucked under her chin. He very carefully pulled the covers up over her bare shoulder. She made a funny little snuffly noise that made his throat tight. He looked ahead to all the mornings he would wake up with her and thought about what it would be like. Most mornings, he realized, there probably wouldn’t even be time to think about it like this. They’d be getting up to an alarm clock, getting ready for work, getting kids ready for school, hurrying through mornings like everybody did. _I need to remember this,_ he thought. _Because of all the mornings when there won’t be time to just watch her sleep, I need to remember this one._

She stirred then, moved enough that she felt him next to her, and opened her eyes, smiling. “Good morning, boy,” she said and slid her arms around his neck.

“Good morning, girl,” he responded and kissed her.

After a while she asked, “What time is it?”

“I don’t know,” he told her. “I couldn’t get my phone without waking you up.” He reached for it and checked the screen. “Still early. Not quite six o’clock.”

“Mm.” She stretched, and the covers slipped off her shoulder and nearly to her waist. She didn’t pull them back up. “We don’t have to get up then, do we?”

Nat managed to bring his eyes back to her face. “No, we don’t.”

He brought his mouth to her breast and felt her respond immediately, shivering a little, and arching toward him. He slid his arm under her and pulled her on top of him, and she started rubbing against him, her legs spread so she could feel him. “Shit, girl,” he muttered and twisted his fingers in her hair to pull her down for a kiss.

When she pulled back, he saw that she had her bottom lip between her teeth, and her eyes were wide and dark. She shifted her weight and he realized what she was doing.

“Okay?” she whispered.

“Fuck, yeah,” he told her, breathing faster.

She got up on her knees and positioned herself carefully and then slowly lowered herself onto him. She was warm and slippery and already feeling tight around him. They hadn’t tried this position before, and it took her a few minutes to figure out the rhythm – not that Nat had any complaints, because it felt amazing to have her move any way at all. She slid up and down a few times, then leaned forward a little to change the angle. He let out a gasp, and she put her hands on his shoulders and continued. Her hair swung back and forth as she moved, a look of concentration on her face. Nat reached up to touch her breast, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and she began to whimper. She leaned a little farther forward so her clit rubbed against him as she moved, and he heard her breath catch and she went faster. He did his damnedest to wait for her, but he didn’t quite make it. It was okay, though, because as he thrust up, he realized she was with him and she was his and everything was amazing.

“We’re getting really good at this,” she told him after they’d had a chance to catch their breath.

“Damned good,” he agreed. She was snuggled tight against him, his arm around her and her head on his chest. Her hair was tickling his neck, and he loved it. “I love you, girl.”

“I love you too, boy.”

“We probably ought to think about getting up.”

“Yeah, because if not, Mrs. Ludington might bring us breakfast in bed.”

He let out a crack of laughter. “I actually believe that’s possible.”

She grinned up at him. “I’d let you lick the maple syrup off …”

*          *          *          *          *

Eliza sat perfectly still in her seat, keeping her eyes on her phone which she had hastily opened to a textbook app. She stared at the words, but they might as well have been invisible because nothing on the page penetrated her mind. She didn’t dare look up, but she listened carefully. It sounded like the Greaters were doing a routine ID check. That would be okay. She’d been traveling under the name Sandra Davis since there was no reason for Eliza Schuyler to visit Philadelphia. According to the backstory Alex had created, though, Sandra’s cousin Michelle Walker and her husband Jeff lived in Philadelphia. She ran through the details in her head, grateful for Alex’s creative thinking. The Greaters were nearly at her seat. She glanced up briefly to see if they still had their guns out. They did. She stared at her phone until one of them spoke directly to her.

“ID, please,” he said, sounding bored.

She handed him the ID card with the name Sandra Davis on it. Her actual ID was in New York in John’s file. _One out, one in,_ he told them, so that nobody was ever without an ID, and nobody ever ended up carrying two.

The Greater looked back and forth between the ID and her face, then signaled to the others to go on to the next car. He turned back to her. “Phone license.”

She got out the phone license with Sandra Davis’s name on it and gave it to him.

“You have a phone license because you’re a full time college student living away from home, correct?”

“Yes, sir,” she responded politely.

“You’re a student at Columbia?” The name Sandra Davis did in fact appear on several class rosters, thanks to John’s hacking skills.

“Yes, sir.” She hated having to treat this buffoon in his ornate uniform with respect.

“Let’s see your ticket.”

Oh, shit. She had a one-way ticket and no way to explain how she had gotten to Philadelphia from New York. She tried to think as she fumbled through her purse, taking as much time as she could, trying to breathe normally, as though everything was fine. She finally “found” the ticket in a small zippered compartment and handed it over to the Greater.

“You left Philadelphia at two o’clock?”

“Yes.”

“When did you get there?”

“Around noon.” It was a ridiculously short visit, and she bit her lip to keep herself from offering some reason for it. _Never volunteer information,_ Alex had told them all a million times. _Answer only the question you’re asked, nothing more._

“And what was the reason for going to Philadelphia?”

“I went to visit my cousin.”

“Your cousin’s name and contact information.”

She gave him the name Michelle Walker and Will’s phone number, since Molly didn’t have a phone license. The Greater took it all down.

“And why were you visiting her?”

Eliza swallowed. “She’s my cousin. I just wanted to see her.”

The Greater made a huffing noise. “You know that when the new travel regulations go into effect, this kind of pointless travel will not be permitted, don’t you?”

She risked looking at his face for a moment. It wasn’t friendly. “Yes, sir,” she said. “That’s why I went this weekend; it’s the last weekend before the regulations start.”

“Why are you returning to New York so early?” he asked.

“I have an important paper due on Monday,” she said, trying to sound concerned and conscientious. “I would have liked to stay longer, but I have to work on my paper.”

The Greater was silent for so long that she finally looked at him again. He holstered his gun and smiled at her. She swallowed hard and looked back at her phone.

“What are you studying in college?” he inquired, his voice different from what it had been.

“Pre-law.”

He chuckled. “You want to be a lawyer?”

Eliza felt the anger flare up in her and beat it back. “Yes, sir,” she responded colorlessly.

“Pretty girl like you doesn’t belong in a courtroom.” He had lowered his voice, making it harder for other passengers to hear him.

Eliza sat silently, staring down. _Don’t answer anything that’s not a question,_ Alex had said. _They’ll try to bait you._

“Well?” the Greater said.

Eliza looked at him quickly, then looked away. He wasn’t smiling anymore. She kept her voice even and calm. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Don’t try to bullshit me,” he snapped.

She swallowed hard. “No, sir, I wouldn’t.”

He leaned over, his upper body between Eliza and the seat in front of her, shielding himself from view. The train car was silent; no passengers having conversations, no music playing, not even any clicking of laptop keyboards, but also no one coming to her aid. Not that anybody could do much. She didn’t blame them.

The Greater was only inches from her. He reached down and grabbed her left arm just above the wrist. “I don’t care that you’re some rich college kid studying to be a lawyer. You’re no better than anybody else.”

She didn’t respond. He tightened his grip on her arm painfully. “You’re not going to be a lawyer. President King isn’t going to let girls go to law school. Maybe you should think about a different career.” He twisted her arm, and it hurt like hell. She felt a trickle of cold sweat on her back, and her stomach was in knots, but she stayed silent. He turned her arm a little farther, and she gave an involuntary gasp. _I’m not going to cry,_ _I’m not going to cry, I’m not going to cry,_ she repeated to herself. _I won’t give him the satisfaction of making me cry._ She tried to reposition her shoulder to take some of the pressure off her arm, but she was wedged into the corner of the seat by the window, and there was no space to move. He came in closer, his face near hers. She could smell old smoke on his breath, and she turned her head away from him. He gave her arm one last hard wrench, and against her will, the tears spilled over.

He let out a brief, derisive laugh. “You should be nicer to people, pretty girl,” he muttered, and he finally let her go. He stood up straight, hands at his waist, the right one on the butt of his gun. He could shoot me, she thought. He could kill me right here, and nobody would be able to stop him. She still had her phone in her right hand and she clutched it tightly, keeping her eyes down. After a long minute of silence, she heard him walk away and go through the door to the next car. She started shaking.

“Miss, miss, are you all right?” an older woman called softly from across the aisle.

Eliza turned to look at her and nodded. “’Mm-hmm,” she managed to say.

“I’m sorry I didn’t do anything to help you,” the woman said. She had fluffy gray hair and a pink sweatshirt with kittens on it.

“It’s okay,” Eliza told her. “I’ll be fine in a few minutes.” She was crying now, and she knew she needed ice on her arm.

“I was afraid to say anything,” the woman said. “I’m ashamed to admit it, but I was too scared of him.”

“I know.”

The train jolted and finally pulled out of the Trenton station. As it picked up speed, an announcement came over the PA system. “You may have seen some of our fine police officers on the train during our brief stop. They were here to ensure your safety and security as you travel. Let’s have a round of applause for our Greaters!”

The other passengers began to clap, even the woman in the pink sweatshirt. Only Eliza sat immobile, her face turned to the window. She didn’t applaud. Her arm hurt too much to move.

*          *          *          *          *

Betsy’s was never very busy on a Sunday morning. Mark was the only one working, and John and Herc had a table near the back.

“Alex is going to be back today, right?” Herc asked.

John shrugged. “As far as I know. It’s not like he checks in when he’s doing stuff for the Movement, so I just assume no news is good news.”

“I hope he comes back with some real information. I don’t like the idea that somebody could be listening in on us right now.”

“No kidding,” John said. “Then maybe we can quit blasting Harry Styles whenever Alex and I have a conversation.”

The fact was that they hadn’t been very careful about that. John had talked to Tim and Danny about electronic eavesdropping without any screening noise. It just seemed too unbelievable that there would be listening bugs planted everywhere. He was about to say that when Herc kicked his ankle under the table and nodded toward the door.

Marty Middicks had just walked in. That was a surprise in itself, since his crowd never hung out at Betsy’s. It was an even bigger surprise when, after getting his coffee, he headed toward their table.

“Hey,” he said diffidently, “okay if I sit here?”

“Sure,” Herc said, “no problem.”

There were plenty of empty seats around the room, so it was obvious that Marty wanted to talk to them. John leaned back in his chair and stretched out his legs, not saying a word. Herc eyed Marty appraisingly, waiting. Marty stared at his coffee, stirring it for much longer than it needed. Finally he looked up. “So how’s Alex?” he asked. “I haven’t really seen him this semester.”

“He’s good,” John responded, keeping it short.

Marty took a sip of coffee.

“Look,” Herc said, “not to be rude or anything, but it’s pretty obvious you want to talk to us about something, so why don’t you just say it?”

Marty threw him an annoyed glance and shrugged. “I’m just trying to find out if there’s still a chapter of the SPG on campus.”

“Why?” John asked.

Marty drank some more coffee and looked at the wall, not making any eye contact. “Things haven’t exactly been going great since Blodman was elected. Lately, I’ve been wishing I voted for Randolph.”

John snorted. “’Zat so?” he inquired skeptically.

Marty looked at him directly. “I’m serious.”

“Right.” John sat up straight and pushed his hair back. “You’re not suffering under President King, Marty. Your family’s got money, so you’re Haves. Nothing’s bad about your situation, so why don’t you tell us why you’re really here?”

Marty flushed red to the roots of his hair. “It’s not about me, it’s about Sylvia.”

“Okay, what about Sylvia?”

Marty glanced over at Herc in the hope that he’d look more sympathetic. He didn’t. “Sylvia’s family are Hopes,” he said. “They have a small business, custom printing. You know, team tee shirts, coffee mugs with your company logo, that kind of thing.”

“Yeah.” John wasn’t all that interested.

“Well, the business declined in the last year. They just didn’t get as many orders as they used to.”

“Yeah, that’s too bad,” John said, “but you know, not our problem.”

“You don’t understand,” Marty told him. “They could fall to Deplo level.”

“So? Those are stupid artificial distinctions made by King’s government. They’re meaningless.”

“They’re not meaningless when they change your tax bracket or what schools your kids can go to,” Marty retorted angrily. “Do you know how my parents would react if I told them my girlfriend was a Deplo?”

“Huh,” John commented, turning to Herc, “look at Marty being all concerned about inequality.”

“Yeah, I guess it hurts when it gets personal,” Herc said. He sighed. “Marty, if you’ve suddenly had an awakening about President King and his government, good for you. Contact your Congressman, march in a demonstration, knock yourself out. If you want, I’ll put you on our email list.”

“What about other stuff?” Marty asked.

“What other stuff?”

“I hear things.”

Herc and John exchanged looks, and then John pulled his chair closer to Marty’s. “We all hear things. I hear President King likes gold trim on uniforms. I hear global warming’s a hoax. Hell, I hear the moon landing was faked. I don’t much care what you hear. If you want to oppose the government, do what you can. That’s all I can tell you.”

Marty shoved his chair back and stood up, a look of disgust on his face. “I thought maybe I could help you guys out. I thought you might appreciate it, you know?”

John nodded. “Maybe you can. Let’s see how it goes. If there’s something you can help with, we’ll let you know.”

Marty turned on his heel and strode angrily out the door.

Herc watched him go and then looked at John. “I don’t like that. I don’t like it one bit.”

*          *          *          *          *

Alex got to New Haven about half an hour before Nat and Patty returned from Boston. Neither of them expected to find Alex in the apartment, but their reactions were different.

“Oh, good,” Patty said, “now I can ride back with you instead of taking the train.”

Nat asked, “What the hell are you doing here?”

Alex explained about the jammers, sniffers, phones, and the undercover websites. “Also,” he added, “TJ’s tech genius is setting up a hacking tutorial by text once we’ve got the new phones. We need to have at least one person in each location designated for hacking because that’s probably going to be our first line of attack. John’s been doing a fair amount of it for us, but I’m going to take it over because John already has to do all the IDs and documents.”

Ben looked at Nat. “Okay with you if I do that?”

“Absolutely,” Nat told him. “You’re better at tech stuff than I am anyway.”

“Okay,” Alex said, “now you guys need to get this information to Boston ASAP.”

Nat looked at him in exasperation. “We just got back.”

“I know, I know.” Alex held up his hands. “It wasn’t something we could have foreseen.”

“Not a problem,” Ben said. “We’ll get it there within the next few days.”

Alex nodded. “As soon as you can. We don’t know how long these websites will be operating.”

“I got it,” Ben assured him, trying not to sound irritated. Sometimes Alex acted like he was the only one who could remember all the details.

“Patty, if you’re riding with me, we need to get going,” Alex said.

“Maybe it would be better to take the train?” Patty suggested, looking up at Nat. They could have another hour together if she took the train.

“I’d rather you went with Alex, girl, really,” Nat told her. “It’s not good for anyone to travel alone.”

“Alex just did,” Patty pointed out.

“Yeah.” Nat gave Alex an inquiring look.

“It got complicated,” Alex said a little defensively. “I had to go meet TJ in Richmond, so Will went with me because Eliza had a paper to do for tomorrow. Eliza took the train back to New York from Philly.”

“Well, duh, I guess it’s not all that dangerous, is it?” Patty commented.

Alex shrugged. “I think public transportation is generally safe, but Nat’s right, really. Eliza just took the train because she had to work on that paper. Otherwise, she would have waited for me.” He wasn’t at all sure that was true, but it was what Eliza had said, so he repeated it.

“Okay, then,” Patty said, “I’ll get my stuff.”

Alex gave her and Nat plenty of time to say goodbye. He wasn’t going to get in the way of true love.

*          *          *          *          *

Gil was thinking about making himself some dinner when his phone rang. He was a little surprised to see that it was Eliza calling, since she usually texted. As soon as he heard her voice, he knew something was wrong.

“Gil, can you come get me at Penn station?” she asked, her voice shaking.

“Of course.” He grabbed his keys and left the apartment. “I’m on my way to the garage now. What happened?”

“I’ll tell you when you get here. Just …" her voice broke on a sob “… please don’t say anything to anybody. I don’t want to talk to Angelica yet.”

“You have my word,” he promised. “I’ll pick you up on 8th Avenue, near the door.”

“Okay – and, Gil?”

“Yes, what is it?”

“I might need some medical treatment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is Eliza okay? How much will she tell Angelica? Will Alex continue to make rash decisions? (I think we all know the answer to that one) What kind of hacking will TJ's nameless tech genius set up?  
> I chose this chapter title carefully. The tension is growing, and at some point something is going to happen. Maybe you see it coming, maybe not. I haven't given you many hints on this, but some of you may suspect.  
> 1\. You have no control who lives who dies who tells your story. -- Lin-Manuel Miranda  
> 2\. War is hell. -- General William Tecumsah Sherman  
> 3\. It's what you don't see coming that gets you. -- Daisy Rivers
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and comments. I love hearing what you think, and I love answering questions, but no spoilers. <3<3<3


	41. He Will Never Be Satisfied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gil makes sure Eliza gets the care she needs. Alex goes home to John. Angelica gets angry. Nat breaks his phone.

Gil saw her standing on the sidewalk as he came around the corner, looking small and alone, clutching a bag that looked too heavy for her. He pulled up to the curb, ignoring the honking horns of other drivers, and leaned across the seat to open the door. She fumbled with the bag, and he saw immediately that she couldn’t use her left hand. He jumped out of the car, oblivious to more honking, yelling, and the screech of brakes, and came around to the passenger side. She looked up at him and whispered, “Sorry.”

“Sh,” he told her, tossing the bag in the back seat and buckling the seat belt for her. “You will tell me later. You’re safe now.”

He didn’t ask her any questions as he drove the Audi as fast as he could to the St. Luke’s clinic where he had interned over the summer and pulled into a parking section designated _doctors only._

“What ID do you have?”

“Sandra Davis.”

“All right. Your left arm is hurt, yes?”

She nodded, biting her lip.

“How?”

“On the train … a Greater. They were checking IDs, but he asked me … other things, and then he got mad and twisted my arm.”

Gil looked past her for a moment, his face expressionless. Then he turned back to her. “Show me,” he said gently.

She pushed up her sleeve, and he saw the dark purple bruises on her pale skin.

“Did he twist your arm toward your body or away from it?”

She frowned, thinking. “Toward. To my right.”

“Where does it hurt the most?”

“My shoulder.”

“All right, _ma petite_ , no more questions. Here is our story. You are my friend, and against your parents’ wishes, you have been dating a bad boy who is a Deplo. Today, you tried to break up with him, and he did this. We will give them his name, but we will ask them not to report it in order to protect you. They know me here; they will believe me. It’s only a little bit of a risk, but you must have an x-ray, so we do this.”

“All right,” she agreed, trusting him. “What’s his name?’

“We’ll call him Robert Williams. Is that a good name?”

She nodded. “Common enough that he’ll be hard to find if they report it anyway.”

“Yes. Let’s go in now.”

He told Eliza to sit in the waiting room and went to talk to the triage nurse, who recognized him. He spoke with her at length, occasionally glancing over at Eliza, the nurse looking sympathetic and nodding. Within minutes, Eliza was in an examining room, and the nurse helped her change into a pale blue hospital gown and put an ice pack on her shoulder. Gil was allowed to sit with her while she waited for the doctor. He forced himself to look at her face, not at the bruises on her arm. There were dark shadows around her eyes, and the bright light in the examining room made her skin look ghostly pale. He had become skillful at concealing his fury at the flagrant brutality of the Greaters. He knew he would never be able to find the specific one who had hurt Eliza, but others like him would pay for this.

He leaned toward her. “Can I ask you one more question?”

“Of course.”

“Why did you come back to New York alone instead of with Alex?”

She looked away for a moment and then back. “It’s complicated.”

“Anything to do with Alex usually is.”

“I know.”

“You don’t have to tell me, _ma petite_.”

She took a breath. “No, I think I want to talk to you about it. I have to talk to somebody, or I’ll go crazy. I always talk to Angelica, but I don’t think I can right now.”

It wasn’t hard to put two and two together when it involved Alex and this girl who had been in love with him for more than a year without his noticing. If Alex had suddenly realized that Eliza was in love with him, would he have had the self-restraint not to act? Gil could almost laugh at that. As far as he knew, Alex Hamilton had never had any self-restraint.

“After we’re all done here,” he said to Eliza, “we’ll pick up some dinner and go back to my apartment, and you can tell me whatever you want.”

“Thank you,” Eliza said, almost managing a smile.

The doctor came in then, a brisk fortyish woman with glasses and braids that swung around when she moved. She introduced herself as Dr. Dubois and gave Gil an appraising look. “Don’t I know you?”

“Gilbert Motier,” he reminded her. “I was in the summer internship.”

“Ah, yes.” She smiled. “You’re the smart one.”

Gil frowned. “Pardon?”

“We have a lot of interns and it’s hard to remember names, so we tend to give them nicknames. You were the smart one.”

“Oh.” He thought about it. “Well, that’s good, I suppose.”

“Yes,” Dr. Dubois told him, “the others were the dumb one, the annoying one, and the nervous one.”

That made Eliza laugh a little, as the doctor had intended, and then she began the exam, probing as gently as she could, asking questions.

“And you won’t be seeing this Robert anymore, right?”

“No, definitely not,” Eliza promised.

“I don’t think your arm is broken, but I can’t be sure without an x-ray, so let’s get you down to Radiology and take a look. We’re also going to give you something for the pain now because they’ll have to reposition you for the x-ray, and it might be uncomfortable.” She turned to Gil. “Will you be staying?”

“Yes,” he assured her. “I’ll stay, and then I’ll take her home.”

Dr. Dubois nodded. “I’ll be back after she’s had the x-ray.”

The radiology aide came a few minutes later and rolled Eliza’s bed away, promising to bring her back as soon as she was done. Gil took a few minutes to get some water and check his phone, but there were no messages. It occurred to him that he didn’t even know where Alex was.

When they brought Eliza back, there were traces of tears on her face and she looked exhausted. Fortunately, the pain medication had begun to take effect, and she closed her eyes, if not sleeping, at least resting. Gil watched her, his face calm, his mind raging. Taking out a few Greaters in an act of revenge would be easy. All he needed was a rooftop, and there were plenty of those in New York. What was really giving him trouble, though, was his anger at Alex. He knew that Alex would make overtures to anyone, male or female, that he found attractive. It had been easy for him to refuse Alex’s invitation, and, in all fairness, there had been no hard feelings and no persistence, but Eliza was vulnerable in a way he was not. She was in love with Alex, and had been for a long time. If Alex had any emotional perception at all, he would know that, but Alex, brilliant as he was, had no ability to read anyone else’s feelings. If he’d approached Eliza romantically, it could easily mean nothing more to him than a casual fling, and he’d be too clueless to understand that for Eliza it would be something entirely different.

Gil knew that Eliza understood that about Alex. She knew him as well as anybody, and she didn’t have any illusions about him. When you love someone, Gil thought, you love them as they are, not as you wish they would be. Eliza, like John, would be aware that Alex wasn’t going to be monogamous, but he didn’t think Eliza would be able to accept that the way John did. That’s where his thoughts came up against a wall. What if you love someone, but a part of that person will make you unhappy forever? There was no satisfactory answer, and none of it fit his own concept of love. Love could be exciting, it could make your heart race, but in the end, for him at least, love had to ground you and bring you peace. He couldn’t see how being in love with Alex would be peaceful for anyone.

It was nearly an hour before Dr. Dubois came back and woke Eliza up gently. “I have the radiology report, and I’m glad to tell you that your arm isn’t broken. That’s the good news. The bad news is that there’s a fair amount of muscle and ligament damage, so you’re going to have to rest the arm and the shoulder for a while. We’re going to get you a sling to immobilize it, and you’re going to wear that every day for at least a week. I’m referring you to a physical therapist, and you should contact him as soon as possible so you can get started on your recovery.” She handed Eliza a pile of papers to sign along with a prescription for pain medication. “You’ll probably need the prescription meds for a couple of days, and then after that you can take Advil. If the pain gets worse instead of better, come back, okay?”

“I will,” Eliza promised. “Thank you.”

Dr. Dubois looked from her to Gil and back again. “Be careful about the boyfriends,” she said.

It was dark and cold in the parking lot, and Gil got Eliza into the car quickly and grabbed a sweatshirt off the back seat to put around her. “Is Angelica expecting you tonight?” he asked.

“Not really. We weren’t sure if we were going to stay in Philly overnight or not.”

“Then why don’t you just stay with me tonight? I think you need sleep, and I won’t ask you any questions, I promise.”

Eliza nodded. “Yeah, that would be good. I’m really tired.”

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

She had to think about it. “Yeah, I am. Maybe that’s part of the reason I feel so light-headed.”

“There’s a Chinese place up the block that makes great wonton soup. Does that sound good to you?”

“That sounds perfect.”

Gil called the Chinese restaurant and placed an order, telling them he’d pick it up in twenty minutes. Eliza leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes again and only opened them when she realized the car had stopped. Gil had pulled to the curb in front of The Jade Lotus, parking illegally, of course, but not for long. He was in and out in less than five minutes, and they continued to his apartment building.

Eliza sank gratefully onto Gil’s couch while he warmed up the soup in the microwave and brought it to her. He sat down next to her, eating his own bowl of soup and not asking questions. After a few minutes, she said, “Gil, I don’t even know how to thank you. I didn’t really mean for you to have to babysit me all night.”

He smiled and shook his head. “It’s not babysitting. You’re my friend, and I think maybe this would not be a good night for you to be alone.”

“Well, you’re right about that.” She seemed a little more like herself. “Angelica would be telling me I’m crazy by now.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you had a very bad day, though, and that it was not entirely because of your encounter with the Greater.”

She nodded. “You’re right. That was just the final straw.” She sat there for a few minutes, folding and unfolding the hem of her shirt. Then she looked up at him. “You know how I feel about Alex, right?”

“Yes.”

“Everybody knows, I guess, except maybe John.”

“John knows,” Gil told her gently.

She sniffed and blinked a few times. “Well, damn.”

“It’s okay, _ma petite_. John has no illusions about Alex.”

“So you’re saying John wouldn’t be surprised to know that Alex kissed me?”

“John wasn’t even surprised when Alex kissed _me._ ”

_“What?”_

Her shocked expression made him smile. “It was easy for me to say no, though, because I’m not in love with him.”

She looked away. “I didn’t say no.”

“Ah.”

“It was just kissing, but if we had been alone, it wouldn’t have been.”

“I understand that.”

She was silent for a minute, then she said softly, “I’m afraid of what I might do. I keep telling myself that I just need to avoid him, or at least to be sure that there are always other people around.”

“Forgive me, but are you sure that’s what you want to do? It doesn’t seem to me that it would make things any better.”

“It won’t,” she agreed, “but at least it won’t make things worse.”

“Maybe you can talk to Alex about it, set some guidelines? If you tell him that there is no possibility of having a relationship with him, he’ll respect that. He’s not … he’s not predatory. He won’t drag you into something you don’t want.”

“I know.” She wiped her eyes with her fingers. “The thing is, it’s not true, and he’d know I was lying.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“I _want_ Alex. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. But he’s with John, and I love John too, and I don’t want to come between them.”

“Oh.” That was the problem. She expected Alex to be in an exclusive relationship. “ _Ma petite_ , I don’t think Alex sees this the same way you do. I don’t think he has any intention of breaking up with John.”

Eliza’s dark eyes flashed angrily. “So he just wants to fool around with me, but still be with John?”

“I think maybe _fool around_ is too simplistic. I’m just saying that Alex wouldn’t see this the same way you do.”

“So he gets a free pass to cheat all he wants?”

“If everyone is okay with it, it’s not cheating. Look, I’m not trying to tell you what to do, not at all. Alex cares about you, maybe not the same way he cares about John, but he wouldn’t use you.”

“Could you do it?” she asked sharply. “Could you be in a relationship with somebody, and then be okay with her seeing somebody else?”

He shook his head. “No, I couldn’t. That is not what I want.” He took a deep breath. “But I decide only for myself. If someone else decides differently, they’re not wrong just because they’re not like me.”

She nodded. “I see what you’re saying, but I can’t … if I’m going to be with somebody, I want there to be a commitment.”

“Then that’s what you have to tell Alex.”

She put her hand over her face and her breath caught on a sob. His heart ached for her, because he could foresee no happy ending. If she gave in to Alex – and he suspected that she would sooner or later – she would be wracked with guilt because of John. If she didn’t give in … but for that to be true, she’d have to put real distance between her and Alex, not just try to avoid him while living in the same city. She’d have to transfer to a different school, move far away, separate herself from her friends and even from her sister. He couldn’t imagine that she would be able to do that. He put his arm around her, and she cried on his shoulder while he stroked her hair and murmured whatever comforting words he could think of.

*          *          *          *          *

Alex dropped Patty off at her building and parked the Kia in the apartment garage. He sat there for a while, reviewing the last couple of days in his head, sorting out the technical information he needed to pass on, and then, finally, thinking about Eliza. He’d only been flirting at first, really, just holding her hand and playing with it a little. It was nice, but no big deal. He’d gone into the kiss the same way, not expecting it to be what it became. Two seconds in, Eliza’s urgency swept him away, and everything changed. 

Then again, maybe nothing changed. Eliza had become withdrawn and unhappy, and had, he was sure, made up her excuse about having to get back to New York to finish a paper. He didn’t want her to be unhappy; he certainly didn’t want to _make_ her unhappy. He’d had no idea what her feelings for him were, but maybe he should have known. Apparently he hadn’t seen what was obvious to everybody else. Now that he knew, though, could he ignore it? Eliza seemed to want to go back to _status quo ante_ , act like nothing had ever happened between them. Was that even possible?

He’d always thought of Eliza more as Angelica’s sister rather than a person in her own right. She was sweet and generous, and he had come to see her as kind and gentle. She was, but there was more to her than just sweetness. That one kiss had been like opening the door of Ali Baba’s cave and getting a glimpse of all the treasures inside before it slammed shut again.

He smacked his hand against the steering wheel. _Really,_ he asked himself, _you’re supposed to be so good with words and the best you can do is Ali Baba’s cave? More like Pandora’s box._ There were countless possible outcomes now, but most of them weren’t good. Maybe he should talk to John. On the other hand, maybe that was the worst idea ever. He sighed and got out of the car, making sure he had the papers TJ had given him.

John was waiting for him, and, as always, the realization of that washed over him in a wave of contentment. He was coming home to John, the man he loved. Why would he ever think he needed anyone or anything else?

“You have dinner yet?” John asked, after taking his time with a welcome-home kiss.

“Nah, I thought there’d probably be leftovers here.”

“Chicken and rice?”

“Your home-made chicken and rice?”

“Fuck, yeah. You know mine’s the best. Tim and Danny had some last night, but there’s still plenty left. I’ll heat it up.” He busied himself taking containers out of the fridge and putting the leftovers in a pan. “So what did you find out from Crazy Tony?” he asked. “Or is it all need-to-know?”

“Not most of it. I actually met with TJ, too. Will and I drove down to Richmond.”

“Really? Wait, you and Will? Didn’t Eliza go with you?”

“Yeah, but she had to get back to work on a paper.”

“How’d she get back?”

“She took the train.”

“Alone?” John asked, looking intently at the rice.

“Yes, alone. It was a public train with lots of people.” Alex realized that he sounded defensive. “Trains are still safe, mostly.”

“Okay. Have you talked to her since she got back?”

“No.” Why hadn’t he at least called and checked that she got home safely? What was the matter with him? “I’ll text her now.” He sent the text, but he didn’t get an answer.

John had been watching him, but he didn’t comment. He dished up the chicken and rice and they sat at the table eating it while Alex reported on what he had learned.

A few minutes into the conversation, John broke into a smile. “I should probably tell you that I’ve already ordered four jammers and two sniffers off the internet.”

Alex stared at him, astonished. “How the … what …”

“Danny knows all about that stuff. He says he learned it from watching TV, but I think there’s more to it. He knew which websites to use and everything. It’s all going to be delivered to one of the mailboxes.” They rented a few private mailboxes in different names and different locations to use as needed.

“So I really didn’t need to go to Richmond, I just could have asked Danny?”

“I told him you’d be pissed.”

Alex laughed. “Actually, I’m glad there’s somebody around who knows this stuff. I’m going to be learning more about hacking and using the internet, though. You’ve got enough to do with all the IDs and documents.”

John shrugged. “I don’t mind. I like fooling around with the computer.”

“TJ told me that I take advantage of you,” Alex told him, flushing a little. “I think he might be right.”

John reached across the table and held his hand. “I’ll let you know if it bothers me,” he said.

Alex looked at him directly. “Promise? I’m serious, _querido,_ _prométeme_.”

“ _Lo prometo_.” John brought Alex’s hand up to his lips and kissed it gently. He wondered what Alex was really talking about, but he knew he’d find out in due time.

*          *          *          *          *

Gil dropped Eliza off at her dorm, reminding her to keep her sling on and to call him if she needed anything. She gave him a one-arm hug and thanked him, then went in to face Angelica.

“Hey,” Angelica said, glancing up from her tablet. Her eyes widened when she saw the sling. “What the hell happened?”

“I had a run-in with a Greater on the train. I’m okay, though, Gil took me to the hospital.”

Angelica took Eliza’s bag from her and shoved a chair toward her so she could sit down. “Gil?” she asked, frowning. “I thought you went with Alex. And what were you doing on a train?”

Eliza sighed, but she knew she’d have to tell Angelica everything and it was probably easier to get it all out at once. She started with the drive to Philadelphia, leaving nothing out, and not sparing herself. When she got to the part about kissing Alex, Angelica jumped up and started pacing.

“Selfish son of a bitch!” she snapped.

“No, don’t, Ange, it was as much me as it was him.’

“I doubt that.”

“You know how I feel.”

“That doesn’t make it okay for him to come on to you when he’s in a relationship with John.”

“He didn’t know.”

“Bullshit. And anyway, that’s no better.”

“No, it’s not, but I think when he figured it out, it made things a little different.”

“Oh, I’m sure it did. I’m sure it made him think he could do what he wanted.”

“He didn’t, though, Ange, that was the end of it.”

“Then why did you come home alone?”

Eliza looked away, and related as unemotionally as possible her excuse about finishing a paper. “I didn’t want to put myself in a situation that would make things worse.”

Angelica looked mad enough to hit someone. “So you have to take responsibility for Alex Hamilton’s lack of self-control?”

Tears rose in Eliza’s eyes and she shook her head. “No, for my own.”

Angelica dropped to her knees in front of her sister. “Oh, Eliza, please don’t break your heart over him. He’s not worth it.”

“He is, though, Ange. That’s the problem. He’s so … you know what he’s like. He lights up a room when he walks in.”

Angelica put her arms around Eliza and held onto her. “I know,” she whispered. _Damn_ Alex Hamilton and his beautiful eyes and his charm. How could she protect her little sister when she couldn’t protect herself? She wasn’t as trusting or as kind as Eliza, though, so she’d managed to keep her emotional distance. Eliza was way too vulnerable. She pulled back and looked into Eliza’s face. “I don’t want him to hurt you.”

Eliza gave her a lopsided, teary smile. “Too late.” She wiped her eyes. “Can you make some tea?”

Angelica busied herself with the electric kettle and the tea bags, rehearsing furiously in her mind all the things she would say to Alex the next time she saw him, barely hearing Eliza’s account of the Greater on the train until she mentioned calling Gil.

“Wait,” Angelica said, pouring the boiling water into the cups. “You mean you got back last night?”

Eliza nodded. “Late yesterday afternoon, actually. Gil took me right to St. Luke’s.” She explained what the doctor had told her at the hospital.

“So you spent the night at Gil’s? Why didn’t you come back here?”

“I was exhausted, Ange. I didn’t want to talk. Sorry,” she added guiltily.

“No, it’s okay.” Angelica waved her hand in dismissal. “What did Gil have to say about Alex?”

“Not a lot, just that everybody’s different, and Alex doesn’t see this the same way I do.”

“That’s for sure.”

“Oh, and that Alex kissed him once, too.”

_“Really?”_

“I guess that’s Alex, equal-opportunity player.”

“Damn. I’m assuming it didn’t go anywhere with Gil?”

“Gil’s definitely straight. The thing is, though, John knew about it.”

“And John was okay with it?”

Eliza shrugged. “Gil said he wasn’t surprised.”

“Doesn’t mean he didn’t mind.” Angelica got up again and walked over to the window, holding her tea cup. It was a cloudy, gray day, most of the leaves off the trees by now, the cold wind blowing them around the courtyard. “Alex is all about Alex.”

“Not always, Ange. Look at everything he’s doing for the Movement, putting himself at risk to bring back free elections.”

“Yeah, maybe, but that’s not his personal life.”

“It’s still him. Anyway, let’s just stop arguing over what kind of person Alex is. You can’t argue away what I feel for him.”

“I wish I could.”

“I know.”

“Have you talked to him since you got back?”

Eliza shook her head.

“You mean he hasn’t even called to see if you got home okay?”

“He’s probably still in Philly, or maybe even still in Richmond.”

Angelica just looked at her, hand on her hip. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

Eliza gave her that crooked smile again. “Well, we’ve always said he doesn’t deserve John, so maybe that’s just part of the pattern.”

*          *          *          *          *

“I could leave tomorrow morning and be back before dinner,” Nat said.

“Well, I can’t, because I’ve got three classes,” Ben told him.

“You don’t have to go. Alex said we needed to get the information to Boston as soon as possible because the websites could be taken down at any time.”

“We can go Friday afternoon and still be back that night.”

“That’s nearly a week.”

“It’s five days, Nat, what’s the big deal?”

“Five days is not as soon as possible, because I could have it there tomorrow.”

“Nobody goes alone, remember?”

“Right, did you notice that Alex was alone when he brought us the papers?”

“Yeah, and I’ve also noticed that Alex isn’t the best role model for protocol.”

“Come on, it’s a few hours up the interstate, give the stuff to Paul or Sybil, turn around and come back.”

Ben stared past him, silent for a minute. Then he said, “What’s that noise?”

Nat hadn’t been aware of anything, but once Ben called it to his attention, he could hear a sort of rumbling outside. He got up and went to the door that opened onto their tiny balcony, and now, faintly, he heard sirens in the distance. He opened the door, and the noise got louder. It sounded like shouting. He stepped onto the balcony, but still couldn’t see anything, and it was cold and windy. He looked back at Ben. “I don’t know, but it sounds like something’s going on. I’m going to get my jacket in case we have to go see.”

Ben picked up the remote and turned on the TV, checking the local news, but nothing showed up. By now they could hear voices, but couldn’t make out words. Nat had his jacket on and tossed Ben his. They stood on the balcony, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from, but the narrow streets and tall buildings made sounds echo back and forth, and they couldn’t see anything except a few other residents out on balconies or standing in front of their buildings looking around curiously.

Then there were three loud popping sounds, and Nat turned to Ben wide-eyed. “Were those _gunshots?_ ”

Ben nodded. “I think so.” He was about to continue when a disorganized crowd came around the corner at the end of the street, people running and shouting, some of them screaming. A girl being pulled along by a man was crying, and as they got closer, he heard her sob, “They shot her!”

“Let’s go,” Nat said.

Ben shook his head. “No. I’ll go. You stay here.”

“I’m not going to stay here and …”

“Get it on film.”

“What?”

“We should have a record of it. Stay here, try to stay out of sight, and get a video of whatever this is. We might need it.”

“All right, but …”

“If I need you, I’ll text you,” Ben told him impatiently, and was out the door.

Nat held up his phone, recording, as the crowd got bigger, noisier, more unruly, overflowing the street onto sidewalks and then lawns. A resident started yelling at people to get off his property, and that led to an angry exchange that Nat could hear even from the balcony.

“Get off my lawn, buddy!” the homeowner, a man in his sixties, yelled.

“They’re shooting at us, and you’re worried about your fucking grass? Fuck you!”

Others joined in on both sides, and the argument grew heated and turned into a shoving match, then punches were thrown. Somebody picked up a rock or a brick and heaved it through an apartment building window. Right around that time the sounds of sirens became much louder, and a police car screeched around the corner, hitting half a dozen people who didn’t get out of the way fast enough. There were only two Greaters in the car, but they got out with guns drawn as the people – rioters? protestors? – Nat had no idea who they were – began screaming in outrage at the Greaters. Two of those who had been hit didn’t get up, and as the Greaters advanced toward the throng, they foolishly didn’t watch their backs, and the crowd, which had now become a mob, surged around them. They got off a few shots, and then they were both brought down, disappearing from view. A man jumped up on top of the hood of the police car and started yelling, “Let’s burn it!” The cry was taken up through the crowd, and within minutes, there were flames in the interior of the car. Nat leaned over the balcony rail to try to get a better angle to film it, and the phone slipped out of his hand.

“Fuck!” he muttered. He looked down. In the fading light, he could just make out the phone where it had landed on the concrete walkway, and for the moment, at least, nobody else was down there. He had to go down and retrieve his phone, and it appeared to be safe, although the burning police car was casting orange reflections in windows near the corner. He stuck his keys in his pocket, dashed down the three flights of stairs, grabbed the phone – the screen was smashed to smithereens – and got back to the apartment without anyone stopping him. He tried to turn to phone off and then back on, but it didn’t respond, and he cursed at it in frustration. Now there was no way to contact Ben and no way for Ben to contact him, and there were more people gathering around the burning police car. Then suddenly flames flared where a second car had been set on fire – not a police car, just one that had been parked in the street. Thankfully, his car and Ben’s were in the garage behind the apartment building, but the mob was getting bigger and more unruly, and there was no way to predict what they might do next. The crash of breaking glass let him know that more windows were being broken, but he couldn’t tell from where he was if they were car windows or the windows of houses. It was dusk and getting harder to see. Even the areas near the fires weren’t clearly visible because the leaping flames and smoke distorted everything. There were several bodies still on the ground, but no way to know if they were dead or wounded. A couple of years ago, he could have called 911, would have done that as soon as the first brick was thrown, but now that would only bring more Greaters. Anyway, he reminded himself, his phone was dead.

Sirens wailed again, and three police cars roared in from the opposite direction, blocking the mob with their backs to the burning cars. People began to run, screaming, in all directions, across lawns and between buildings, as the police opened fire on the crowd. Nat felt his stomach heave as he saw one after another fall to the ground. The Greaters were shooting to kill, and he had no idea where Ben was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many hearts will Alex break before he's done? Is there any happy ending for Eliza? For Angelica? For anybody in this story? As Eliza said, it's complicated.  
> Affairs of the heart aside, what the hell is going on in New Haven? And where's Ben?
> 
> Thank you to you lovely people who leave me kudos and comments. I love to hear what my readers think, so let me know. <3 <3 <3


	42. No Restraint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nat and Ben disagree about the best course of action. Angelica and Eliza wait for news. Alex tells John the truth. Not everyone has the same goals.

Eliza had fallen asleep, which wasn’t surprising. Between the pain in her shoulder and the emotional turmoil of the last couple of days, she hadn’t slept well the night before. Angelica had made her take a prescription pain pill and change into comfortable pajamas and pulled a blanket up over her. When Eliza’s phone chimed, she picked it up to silence it, and she saw that the text was from Alex. Her fingers itched to respond, but she set the phone to vibrate and tried to focus on her studying. She would do anything in the world for Eliza, but telling Alex off via text wouldn’t help her sister. When her own phone rang an hour later, her first thought was that it might be Alex trying to reach Eliza, but when she checked, it was only Peggy, who texted or called several times a week. She made a quick decision not to mention Eliza’s injury.

“Hello, brat,” she said.

“Mom’s in labor!” Peggy screeched. “Dad just took her to the hospital.”

“Oh, my God! Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, but they wouldn’t let me go because it might be hours. Mom even told me I have to go to school tomorrow, but that’s not happening.”

“Right. How were they? Is Mom nervous?”

Peggy thought for a minute. “I don’t think so. More excited. Dad’s really excited.”

“I’ll bet.” Angelica felt her throat get tight. “Aw, Peg, we’re going to have a new baby sister!”

“I know! I can’t wait! It’s so awesome!”

“Yeah, it is. I mean, it’s a little weird, but if Mom and Dad are happy, I’m happy too. Besides, babies are cute.”

“And they’re not going to name her Gertrude, so yay for that.”

“Yeah, Katie’s a cute name. Listen, Eliza and I will come home next weekend for sure to see her.” She realized as she spoke that Eliza was awake and sitting up. “It’s Peggy,” she told her. “Mom’s in labor. They’re at the hospital.”

“Oh, let me talk to her,” Eliza said, looking happier than she had since she came home. Angelica handed her the phone, and Eliza went over all the details with Peggy. She finally hung up after making Peggy promise at least three times that she would call the minute there was any news, no matter what time it was. When she turned to look at Angelica, she was smiling. “I’m so happy to get good news.”

Angelica smiled back. “We could use some. How’s your shoulder feeling?”

“Not great, but not too bad. I hate the sling though.”

“How long do you have to wear it?”

“A week, even at night. I can only take it off when I shower.”

“You can’t stop wearing it even if it feels better?”

“They said no, and anyway, Gil will be checking up on me. I don’t want to make him mad.”

Angelica gave her a thoughtful look. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

Eliza frowned, puzzled. “No, go ahead.”

“Last night, when you slept at Gil’s, where did you sleep?”

Eliza sighed. “Oh, Ange, you’re definitely on the wrong track there. I slept in Gil’s bed, and he slept on the couch.”

“Just wondering. I don’t think there’s really much between Gil and Deb, and he’s a very good-looking guy.”

“Please tell me you’re not playing high-school matchmaking games.”

“I’m not. It just crossed my mind. Seriously, why aren’t we all in love with Gil? He’s cute, charming, smart, and rich, not to mention that he has that French accent.”

That made Eliza laugh. “I know, right? Well, in my case there are a couple of reasons. You’re well aware of one, so I won’t bring it up, and the other is … it’s hard to put into words, but I don’t feel like Gil is easy to know. I think there’s a lot more to him than what we see, and maybe underneath all that charm he’s a little scary.”

Angelica nodded. “Yeah, I can see that. We all tend to confide in Gil, tell him all kinds of things, but he doesn’t share much personal stuff.”

“Right. I was floored when he said that Alex had kissed him. And he said it very calmly, as if it was the sort of thing that happened every day.”

“It probably does, with Alex,” Angelica snapped, and then immediately regretted it. “Eliza, I’m sorry. I promised myself I’d keep my mouth shut about Alex, and I can’t even do it for a few hours.”

Eliza shook her head. “It’s okay. You’re probably not going to say anything I haven’t thought myself, anyway.”

Angelica moved over to sit next to her on the bed and put her arm around her sister’s shoulders. “You know I want to go beat the shit out of Alex, right?”

Eliza choked on a laugh. “Yes, I know that.”

“And the only reason I’m not going to do it is that it would make you unhappy if I hurt him.”

“It would, Ange, and I appreciate your concern for my feelings.”

“Okay, then. Oh, and that reminds me, he texted while you were asleep. I silenced your phone so it wouldn’t wake you up, and then I forgot all about it.” She handed Eliza her phone.

Eliza checked her messages. “He’s texted four times. I should probably text him back.”

“Tell him what happened on the train.”

“I will. If I don’t he’ll hear it from somebody else anyway.” All the happiness had gone out of Eliza’s face.

 “Maybe you should call,” Angelica said. “He and John would want to know about Mom.”

*          *          *          *          *

Nat sat with his broken phone in his hand, fiddling with it, as if continually pushing the buttons would make it start working again. It was dark out now, and the disturbance in the street had become a full-on riot. Most of it was on the cross street, so he couldn’t see it all, but the reflections of flames and the acrid smell of smoke told him that more things had been set on fire. It didn’t look like there were any burning buildings, so he assumed cars had been torched. There was still a lot of noise, shouting, the occasional gunshot. He had come in from the balcony when the Greaters had opened fire, and he felt like a coward sitting inside the apartment, but alone and with no information, he could do nothing to help. Maybe Ben had found something out. If Ben was trying to call or text, he’d realize that Nat couldn’t communicate with him, and he’d come back to the apartment.  He switched on the TV to check the news and was surprised to find that the riot a block away was now being covered. He scrutinized the film footage as carefully as possible, but didn’t see anybody who looked like Ben. Still, it was hard to make out individual faces, and Ben had been wearing jeans and a black jacket like half the people there, so he couldn’t be positive. According to the TV report, the rioting had begun when a Greater had made a perfectly legitimate arrest of a shoplifter who was identified as a Deplo. Of course, all offenders were now identified as Deplos in the media, so that meant nothing. The report went on to say that the shoplifter’s friends (or “gang”) began throwing rocks at the Greaters, and that led to a vicious attack on two innocent officers who were just trying to quell the unrest. Nat concluded that they were talking about the two Greaters who had driven into a crowd of unarmed people, but of course that wasn’t how it was described. No government official had ever said that news outlets were being censored, but it had been clear for some time that the First Amendment guarantee of freedom of the press was no longer in effect.

Nat paced around the apartment for a while, debating with himself whether he should go out to look for Ben or wait longer. His frustration was made worse by not being able to communicate with anyone by phone. It finally dawned on him that he could still use his laptop and he sent off a quick email to Mary Floyd, the girl that Ben was sort of seeing at the moment, and another one to Alex that said _721 should email 621 ASAP phone dead_. He hoped that they were both checking their email frequently and thought about adding a message on Twitter or Facebook, but those social media sites had eliminated their private messaging features, and he didn’t want to post anything publicly.

It was another full hour before Ben finally walked in the door, looking stressed and smelling of smoke, but otherwise okay. The first thing he said was, “Why the _fuck_ aren’t you answering your phone?”

In response, Nat held up his phone, the smashed screen clearly visible.

“Shit, how’d you do that?” Ben asked.

“Dropped it off the balcony,” Nat told him briefly. “How bad is it out there?”

Ben took a breath. “Bad. Maybe calming down a little now, but bad. A lot of bodies on the ground. At least a dozen, maybe fifteen that I saw, and I didn’t get far into it. Nobody’s got guns except the Greaters, and they’re just shooting whoever they feel like shooting. I wish I’d taken my gun.”

“I doubt if one gun could have done much,” Nat said, “and they might have shot back. We need a sniper who can take them out from a distance.”

Ben snorted. “As far as I know, the Movement’s only got two snipers, and they’re both in New York.”

“I hear Frank Marion is training his whole squad in marksmanship. We ought to pay attention.”

“You’re right, if that’s true. Who told you?”

“Sybil. I think she got it from Paul after he connected with somebody on a buying trip.”

Ben thought about it and then nodded. “I’ll bring it up with the General next time I talk to him. In the meantime, maybe we should carry our guns routinely.”

“We always have them in our cars.”

“Yeah, but they’re in lockboxes in the cars. We can’t get to them fast enough. Maybe we should get used to wearing a shoulder holster or an ankle holster.”

“Goddam cowboy antics,” Nat muttered.

Ben shrugged. “Better that than being shot when we could defend ourselves.”

“No, you’re right, you’re right,” Nat agreed. “I just wish you weren’t. Do we even have holsters?”

“Yeah, Alex made us get them. Shoulder holster’s easiest to work with, and it’s cold enough now that we can wear jackets all the time.”

“Okay. I’ll wear one tomorrow when I take the electronics info up to Boston.”

“You still think that’s a good idea?”

“Oh, who the hell knows?” Nat snapped, smacking the table impatiently. “I just know that I want to do whatever it takes to make the Movement more effective. Whoever those people were who died tonight, they shouldn’t have died. We’re not a democracy anymore, we’re a police state, and I want to change it. I want our Constitution back.”

*          *          *          *          *

When Alex’s phone rang, he was pleased and a little surprised to see that it was Eliza calling.

“Hey,” he said, “how are you?”

“What do you want first, the good news or the bad news?” Eliza asked, her voice not altogether friendly.

Alex sat up straight, and John, next to him on the couch, began paying attention.

“Wait, let me …” Alex began.

“Never mind,” Eliza told him. “I’m giving you the good news first. Mom’s in labor and at the hospital. Peggy will call as soon as there’s anything to report.”

“That’s great! There’ll be another Schuyler sister soon.”

“Right. We’re all excited about it.”

There was a long pause and Alex realized that Eliza was waiting for him to ask. “Um, you said there was bad news too?”

“Yeah, I was assaulted by a Greater on the train, and my shoulder is sprained.” Eliza didn’t try to soften it in any way.

“Shit, _what?_ What happened?”

“He twisted my arm and sprained my shoulder. Gil took me to the hospital.”

“ _Gil_ took you? When? Why didn’t you call me?”

“Last night, and I didn’t call you because you were in Richmond or Philly or somewhere, remember?”

“But why didn’t you let me know? I’ve been texting you …”

“I was asleep. They gave me pain pills at the hospital, and they make me sleepy.”

“Oh. Okay, listen, I am so, so sorry to hear about that.”

John was signaling for Alex to tell him what was going on, but Alex waved him off.

“Is Angelica there?” Alex asked, although he really didn’t want to.

“Yeah.”

“Can you put her on?” Alex was rubbing his forehead.

“Hello, Alex,” Angelica said.

“Listen, Angelica, I am so sorry about what happened to Eliza.”

“Yeah, me too.” Angelica was not going to spare him. “Too bad she had to travel by herself to avoid you.”

In the background, he heard Eliza say, “Ange, don’t!”

“That wasn’t … she said she had a paper to finish.”

“Right. A paper that she hadn’t mentioned before you left.”

“I didn’t …” He stopped and thought about it. “Can I come over?”

“Now? You want to come here right now?”

“Tell him yes,” Eliza said.

“Yeah,” Alex responded. “Please. I can’t have this conversation over the phone.”

“My sister says yes,” Angelica retorted, “so okay, but I’m not leaving the room.”

“Okay, all right. I’ll be over in a little while. I just need to talk to John first.”

He hung up and turned to John who was sitting there expectantly, knowing there were things to talk about, trusting Alex to be honest with him. Alex reached for his hand and held it tight. “I have to tell you some stuff,” he said.

“Okay.”

“First thing, Catherine’s in labor, so the baby will be born soon.”

“That’s great,” John commented, “but that’s not what you’re upset about.”

“Right.” Alex gave him a brief report about what had happened on the train.

John listened intently, and then he said, “Now are you going to tell me why Eliza took the train home alone?”

Alex’s face was flushed, and he was staring at his feet. “I think she may have been upset with me.”

“Mm-hmm. Why?”

Alex turned to John, tears in his eyes. “John, I love you, and I don’t know why I do things sometimes.”

John didn’t speak or move.

“I kissed her,” Alex said, his voice low.

John nodded, his face serious. “I thought that might be it.”

“What?” Alex was stunned.

John reached out and put his hand on Alex’s cheek. “Oh, Alex, I know you. And I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”

“What do you mean?”

“She looks at you the way I look at you.”

“John, I never …”

“Are you going to tell me you didn’t notice?”

“I didn’t, I swear.”

“Don’t. I mean, maybe you didn’t, not consciously, but you wouldn’t have kissed her if you were convinced she had no interest.”

Alex’s face was burning. “John, I’m so ashamed of myself …”

John brushed his hair back gently. “Your hair’s getting long,” he murmured irrelevantly.

“I know, I told you … John, I don’t want to talk about my fucking hair.”

John looked directly into his eyes. “Do you want to talk about Eliza?”

“I don’t know,” Alex mumbled. “No. But we have to.”

“Well, then, let’s start by being honest. Are you really ashamed of yourself or just ashamed to tell me?”

Alex’s breathing was catching as though he were on the verge of tears. “John, I love you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anybody in my life. How can I do this to you?”

“I don’t doubt for a minute that you love me. I love you, too. But tell me, honestly now, can you say you’re never going to want anybody else?”

Alex did start to cry then. “I don’t … I don’t _want_ to …”

John was stroking his back gently. “But you want Eliza.”

Alex nodded, his voice too choked to speak.

“How?”

Alex gulped down a sob. “What do you mean?”

John put his arm around him and leaned in. “When you put the moves on Gil that time, I got the feeling that it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. Gil’s cute, and the opportunity was there, and you went for it. Am I right?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it the same with Eliza?”

“I … I don’t know.”

“You’re going to have to figure it out.”

Alex swiped at his eyes with his fingers. “Not really, because she wants nothing to do with me.”

“I know that’s not true.”

“That’s what she said.”

“Really?”

Alex shrugged. “Sort of.”

“And when you kissed her, did she respond at all?”

Alex had a sudden, vivid, physical memory of Eliza’s response, of her passion, of the sense that something electric had flashed between them. John saw it on his face. “So, yes,” he said.

John pulled him tight against him and kissed his temple. “Alex, _mi amor_ , I love you no matter what, but you’re going to have to figure this out on your own. If you want to have a little fling with Eliza, and she’s okay with that, then go. I’m not shocked or angry. I’ll be right here. But if it’s more than that, we all need to talk about it, about what kinds of boundaries there are.”

“Eliza wouldn’t consider having any kind of relationship with me as long as I’m with you,” Alex said quietly.

“So you have to choose?” John’s blood had turned to ice water, but he kept his voice calm.

“John, it’s you, it’s always you, I love you so much …”

John held him tight. “It’s me now,” he said. “Just do me a favor and look down the road a little way.”

*          *          *          *          *

“Wait until Friday, and we can both go,” Ben said again.

“After what just happened out there?” Nat asked incredulously. “You’ve already seen how they covered it on the news. Everybody’s got to know what’s happening. I can get the electronics information to Boston and tell them about the riot at the same time. And I can find out if anything like that is happening in Boston. Then this weekend we can go to New York and update Alex.”

It made sense, really, but Ben shook his head. “I don’t like the idea. Don’t you think the Greaters are going to be even worse after all that?” He gestured vaguely toward the intersection where there were still police cars and flashing lights.

“Probably not so much on the interstate, though. I don’t have any classes until afternoon on Tuesday, so I’ll go tomorrow, and if it looks like anything might be starting, I’ll stay over at Sybil’s and come back Tuesday morning. Trouble like this mostly gets going at night.”

Ben knew that was true. If Nat were traveling in his own car on the interstate in broad daylight, he should be safe, at least as safe as Eliza would have been on the train, and Alex had been fine with that. Maybe the General’s “nobody goes anywhere alone” rule needed to be a little more flexible. Anyway, Nat was right that the sooner they got the information out, the sooner they could set up more efficient communications. He needed to talk to Frank about marksmanship training, and to the General about the riot right here in New Haven. If people were rioting in New Haven, he was pretty sure they were rioting in bigger cities like Philadelphia and Boston.

“All right,” he said finally, “I see your point. Go tomorrow, get the information to Boston, and get back. That way, we go to New York on Friday afternoon and talk to Alex about the riot here, maybe a little about what they’re doing with guns on a daily basis. If everybody orders phones from those dark websites, we might actually have a decent communications network set up in a couple of weeks. Oh, and speaking of phones, take mine with you. You can text me on my tablet. I’ll just be here or in class, so I can do without the phone for a day or two.”

“Okay,” Nat nodded. “I really need a phone more than you do anyway, so I can send Patty my daily message.”

Ben snorted. “Right. She’ll be surprised to get it from my number now, won’t she?”

Nat grinned. “Maybe she’ll just assume you’re in love with her too.” His face softened, and he looked away for a minute. “I really do love her, Ben.”

“I know.”

*          *          *          *          *

Angelica was more than a little surprised when she opened the door to find both Alex and John there. She rolled her eyes and stepped back so they could come in.

Eliza was sitting propped up with pillows on the bed. Alex went right to her and took her uninjured right hand in his. “Eliza, I am so, so sorry. How bad is it?”

“It’s not too bad. I mean, it hurts, but at least it’s not broken. I have to wear the sling for a week and see a physical therapist, but it will be okay.”

“Tell me what happened.”

Eliza sighed, but she went through the whole story about the Greater again, and Alex’s eyes grew dark with anger. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered.

“Yeah, he was,” Eliza agreed.

“And nobody on the train tried to help you?” John asked.

Eliza shook her head. “But think about it, that would have been risky for them. Most of them were older people or families with children, so you can understand it.”

“I can’t, actually, but whatever, I guess,” John said.

Eliza smiled at him. “John, you would act to protect anybody. Not everybody’s like that.”

John shrugged, and, glancing away, realized that Angelica was looking at him. He was pretty sure she was reading his mind at the moment. He was going to protect whomever he could as this series of events that Alex had initiated played out. If he managed it right, maybe they could all come through it unscathed.

Angelica shook her head ever so slightly and then said, “I’ll make some tea.”

They sat drinking the tea, all of them a little awkward but trying hard to act as if everything was fine. Alex stayed close to Eliza, feeling guilty both about her injury and about the other sensations he had as he looked at her sitting on the bed in her pajamas, her long dark hair hanging over her shoulders. He cursed himself for feeling anything other than sympathy for her, but when she reached for her tea cup, he was acutely aware that she wasn’t wearing a bra under her pajama top.

John watched Alex watching Eliza, a weight in the pit of his stomach. Well, he’d always known, hadn’t he, that Alex wasn’t monogamous? He wished it weren’t Eliza, though, because she was so sweet and vulnerable that she’d be hurt. He could understand why Alex was drawn to her. If he were straight, Eliza would be the kind of girl he’d want to be with, the kind of girl that everybody said was “beautiful inside and out.” He wanted to figure out a way to protect her.

Eliza just wanted Alex to go home, because the longer he sat there next to her, the worse it got. She had pulled her hand away quickly, but that hadn’t stopped the feelings. She kept remembering his mouth and how it felt, so warm and so … demanding. He had demanded, and she had given, and she would do it again. She had felt his hand on her hand, and his hand twisted in her hair, and now she wanted to feel his hands everywhere on her, touching her, caressing her … She gulped some more tea, desperately trying to drag her thoughts to something else, _anything_ else.

Angelica had always known Eliza as well as she’d known herself, and she’d do whatever she could to protect her sister. She saw Eliza’s flushed face and her covert glances at Alex when he wasn’t looking. She knew what was going on in Eliza’s mind, and she was being civil to Alex now for Eliza’s sake, and maybe for John’s, but not for his own. Alex had John, who obviously adored him, so why did he have to pursue Eliza too? God, had there ever been a more selfish egotist? He took, and he took, and he took, with no restraint, and yet everyone he took from kept giving to him because he was who he was, and because one smile from him could charm anyone, herself included, into doing whatever he wanted. She hated him. She loved him.

Angelica’s phone rang, and everyone jumped. It was Peggy.

“Katie’s born!” she said, half laughing, half crying. “She was born at eight-fifteen. She weighs seven pounds, nine ounces, and dad says she has lots of dark hair.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! A new Schuyler sister! The Schuylers actually had fifteen children, but the 18th century being what it was, seven of them died in early childhood. The youngest was Catherine, who was actually 25 years younger than Angelica. I magically disappeared all of the children except the three oldest and the youngest and reduced the age difference a bit for the purposes of my story.  
> Alex has made a mess, hasn't he? Maybe he needs to get his attention back on the Movement. At least, that's what Ben and Nat would say. What do you suppose is going on with the rioting? And what about sniper training for everyone?  
> Let me know what you think and what you'd like to see more (or less) of. I love to hear from my readers. Thanks as always for kudos and comments. Love y'all!


	43. The People Are Rioting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gil tries to talk some sense into Alex, but they are interrupted. Riots are spreading. Angelica finds herself in a dangerous situation. The Movement welcomes a new member. Gil and Patty talk about love again.

Gil had texted Alex to meet him at Betsy’s for coffee on Monday morning. _Ok,_ Alex had texted back breezily, _I need to talk to Betsy anyway._

Gil was there early, sitting at the back table with his coffee and a scone, wondering how much of a disturbance it would cause if he punched Alex in the nose. Not that he actually planned to do it, but thinking about it was fairly satisfying. He loved Alex like a brother, but there was no denying that Alex could wreak havoc on other people’s emotions.

Alex arrived, his usual charming self, blowing a kiss to Patty, taking a few minutes to say hello to the new guy, Johnny, and waving casually at Gil. He held up a finger in an “in a minute” signal, and then stepped behind the counter to have a brief chat with Betsy. He finally made his way to the table, managing to balance his coffee while tapping on his phone.

“Delete, delete, okay,” he muttered, sitting down. He looked up and gave Gil a smile. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Gil responded, amazed as always by Alex’s ability to compartmentalize the various aspects of his life. _“Et toi?”_

“I’m good, I’m good.” He frowned and gestured at his phone. “Seems like there might have been something going on in New Haven. I got this weird email from Nat to contact him, but before I had a chance to, I got a text from Ben to ignore the email. Then there was a thing on the news about some sort of disturbance last night. I hope we get better communications set up soon.”

“I understand that might happen when we get more phones.”

“Right,” Alex nodded. “How did you find out?”

“I talked to John.”

“Oh.” There was a pause while Alex thought about that. “Oh. When?”

“Late last night. You were asleep.”

“Well, shit, he might have told me.”

“And that,” Gil remarked, “is why I’ve been thinking about hitting you.”

Alex stared, genuinely puzzled. “Why would you want to hit me?”

Gil sighed dramatically. “Eliza. John. Eliza and John.”

“Okay,” Alex said, as if conceding a point. “We’ll work it out, though.”

“You are either the most optimistic person on earth or an idiot,” Gil told him. He drank some coffee and leaned forward a little. “Alex, you can’t keep trampling on people.”

“What do you mean?”

“John’s tough, but he’s not invulnerable. Eliza’s not even tough. You’re hurting both of them.”

“Did John say that?”

“He didn’t have to.”

Alex opened another sugar packet and stirred the sugar into his coffee. “Did Angelica ask you to talk to me?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Alex, I’m not talking to you because somebody told me to. I’m talking to you because I’m genuinely concerned, especially about Eliza.”

Alex bit his lip and nodded. Maybe he was listening. “I didn’t know how she felt about me.”

“And now that you do?”

“I don’t know.” He kept stirring the coffee, even though the sugar had already dissolved. “You know I love John.”

“But not only John?”

“I don’t know,” Alex said again.

Gil could almost feel some empathy for him. “You can’t leave both of them dangling.”

Alex chewed on his lip some more. “I don’t know what I’d do without John. I almost lost him once before, and I couldn’t – I can’t imagine doing that again.”

“Then don’t.” It seemed simple to Gil: choose either John or Eliza, not necessarily easily or without regrets, but choose. “John loves you, and you love him. Not everybody is that lucky. You can build a life with him. Eliza will get over you.”

Alex looked a little insulted at that. “I don’t want to break her heart.”

“Broken hearts heal,” Gil told him pitilessly.

Alex drank his coffee silently, looking past Gil at the street outside the window. “What’s going on?” he asked suddenly, frowning.

Gil turned and followed his gaze. There were more people than usual on the sidewalk for a Monday morning, and some of them had overflowed into the street. He got up and went to the door, Alex right behind him. “Stay here,” he told Alex.

“I’m not going to stay here while you …”

“Oh, _nom de Dieu_ , Alex, shut up.” He lowered his voice. “Have you got a gun?”

“No, of course not, why would I have a gun here?”

Gil huffed out an impatient breath. “I do. Let me go see what’s going on. You should go get a gun out of the back room just in case.”

Alex stared at him. “You have a gun on you now?”

“I always have a gun,” Gil said, stating the obvious, and walked out the door.

The crowd was rapidly increasing, and coming up from the south. He saw immediately that it wasn’t an organized march or protest as he had at first surmised. There were no signs, no chanting, just people, most of them looking frightened, some of them crying. He saw a girl he recognized vaguely from one of his classes and stepped in front of her. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“They were shooting,” she told him, her voice shaky. She looked over her shoulder anxiously. “At just anybody. I was only … I was at the bookstore …”

“Who? Who was shooting?”

“The Greaters. Who else would it be?” She took a couple of steps sideways to get past him. “They’ll catch up soon. You should get moving.” She jogged forward and disappeared into the crowd.

Gil stepped back up on the sidewalk and took out his phone. _Trouble near 763. Can you come?_ he texted to John. The answer came right back. _OMW w 653 almost there_.

John must have heard about it, but what was Danny doing with him? He shoved his phone back in his pocket just as Alex stepped up next to him. “Did you check the newsfeed?” Alex asked.

Gil shook his head, keeping his eyes on the street.

“The official news story is that a mob of Deplos attacked some Greaters.”

“That’s always the story now, isn’t it? Either Deplos or immigrants. A girl just told me that the Greaters started randomly shooting people.”

Alex nodded. “They’re instigating incidents so that the government can take away more rights. I just talked to Tony – same thing’s happening in Philly.”

 _“Merde!”_ Gil muttered. “You have a gun now?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve only got a handgun. I need to get a rifle out of the storeroom.”

“Gil …”

Gil held up his hand. “Don’t waste your time. John and Danny are on their way. I’ll give Danny my gun, and John and I will get the rifles.”

Alex swallowed hard. Gil was right, and he and John were the best marksmen. “Herc and Angelica are coming too.”

“Good. Most of these people have no way to defend themselves.” He finally looked Alex in the eye. “We knew it would come to this. We all need to be armed all the time.”

“Yeah. We’ll meet later.” _If there is a later,_ he added silently to himself.

“Yo!” It was John, crossing from the other side of the street, Danny on his heels.

“John, you’re with me,” Gil ordered, not wasting time on preliminaries. He pulled a Glock out of his shoulder holster and handed it to Danny, who took without argument, his eyes wide. “Danny, you listen to Alex. We’ll see you when it’s over.” _If we can_ , he added silently to himself.

They left Alex beginning to outline a strategy to Danny, and went back inside, where Betsy, Patty, and Johnny, who had only worked there a week, were standing together behind the counter. Betsy had her arm around Patty.

“You guys okay?” Gil asked.

“Yeah,” Betsy responded. “We can get out the back if we have to.”

Patty, her face pale but determined, nodded.

Johnny addressed Gil directly. “You know I’m with you in this, right?”

“Can you shoot?” John asked him, making a snap judgment.

“Yeah, used to go hunting with my grandfather.”

“Handgun?”

“Yeah, pretty good.”

John handed him his SIG Sauer. “Use this if you need it. You can give it back to me next time you see me.” _If you see me again,_ he added silently to himself. He followed Gil to the back room where they kept the rifles.

*          *          *          *          *

When the reports came in, the number of casualties varied wildly. Alex knew at least six civilians were dead in the few blocks around campus, dead just because they couldn’t run fast enough. He, Danny, Herc, and Angelica had been lucky more than anything else, but at least they knew enough to take shelter in doorways and alleys to fire from. As near as he had been able to determine, the riot had started with some Greaters accusing a group of teenagers of trying to rob an elderly couple, but there were no witnesses, and the couple, when produced, seemed terrified and confused about everything. The teenagers, not surprisingly, began to argue, and the Greaters opened fire. The elderly couple were “tragically” killed in the crossfire. “So they couldn’t tell anybody what really happened,” Angelica would say later.

They didn’t know any of this yet, just that the crowd was fleeing Greaters who were shooting. He and John had seen this before at the Times Square riot, and Alex kept at least one eye on places to take shelter. Instead of heading north with the rest of the crowd, they positioned themselves to take on the Greaters when they arrived.

The people in the street were running faster, and there was more yelling, and then the police cars came into view, four of them, officers leaning out the windows, firing into the crowd. They weren’t expecting anybody to shoot back.

Herc blew out the windshield of the first car, and the driver slammed on the brakes and leaped out, his gun drawn. That was a really stupid move because as soon as he was out of the car and in plain view, a shot from a high-powered rifle blew the top of his head off. His partner, a little smarter, stayed close to the car, crouching next to it, but Angelica was able to hit him in the upper chest, shattering his collarbone and leaving him screaming on the pavement.

Meanwhile, Alex and Danny took on the second car. They were positioned a little behind it, deliberately having allowed the first car to drive past them toward Angelica and Herc half a block farther north. The car had stopped as soon as Herc had hit the first one, and now both of the Greaters got out, guns drawn, keeping their backs to the car as they swiveled back and forth, firing wildly in the direction they thought the rifle shot had come from. Alex signaled to Danny to hold fire, since the Greaters were easily visible, and as he expected, John and Gil took them down from whatever rooftop they were on. The third car sped up to pass the two that were now stationary and partly blocking the road. It came barreling past, two wheels on the sidewalk, and Alex and Danny shot out two tires, one on each side. That slowed the car down enough that they could aim at the officers inside it, and the car sideswiped one of the other ones before careening to a stop against a street light.

The driver of the fourth car apparently abandoned whatever plan he had, did a quick K-turn, and headed south, well over the speed limit.

“Stay focused,” Alex yelled, approaching the second car with his gun drawn, Danny right behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Herc and Angelica walking toward the guy Angelica had shot. He was still on the ground and still yelling.

Alex couldn’t see any movement inside the car, but he remained cautious. He signaled Danny around to the passenger side, then opened the driver’s side door quickly. The driver fell out. They’d hit him twice in the torso, and he was quite obviously dead. The officer in the passenger seat was still alive, but covered with blood and moaning softly. Alex leaned in and nudged him, and the moaning got a little louder, but he didn’t move.

“Get his gun, Danny,” Alex said, and Danny opened the door and removed the Greater’s gun from his holster. Alex took the other gun, unloaded it, and tucked it into his belt. “You both all right?” he called to Herc and Angelica.

“Fine,” Herc called back. “Getting the guns.”

“Okay, we can’t hang around.”

“Done,” Herc said, and the four of them went back to Betsy’s. There were, unsurprisingly, no customers, so the four of them went straight to the back room. Betsy had added a row of storage shelves in front of the door, and they had to squeeze behind them. It was inconvenient, but it helped conceal it.

John was sitting there shirtless, and Gil was cleaning a wound on his left arm, just below the shoulder.

“Jesus, John,” Alex exclaimed, “did you get shot again?”

“Fuck, no. Stupid mother fucking Greater shot the stone coping on the roof and a piece of it hit my arm.”

“You’re bleeding,” Alex pointed out.

“No shit. Ow! Dammit, Gil, what are you doing?”

“Trying to make sure you don’t die of an infection, but if you’d rather I left the stone fragments in your arm, I’ll stop.”

“No, go ahead,” John told him, waving his good arm. “Hurts like a mother fucker though.”

“We should have Novocain on hand,” Gil said thoughtfully. “I’ll see what I can do.”

There was a loud noise from out front and they all froze.

“I’ll go,” Angelica said. “I can say I work here.”

Alex nodded, and Angelica slipped quietly out the door, staying tight against the wall behind the shelves. She could hear raised voices. She took a couple of silent steps to Betsy’s office, where the clean tee shirts and aprons were stored and hastily changed her shirt for one of the bright yellow ones and tied on an apron. She took a deep breath and walked into the counter area, reacting with quite genuine shock to the two Greaters who stood there.

“Who are you?” one of them snapped. His name tag said _Conrad_.

“I’m Allison,” she said. “I was in the bathroom. What’s going on?” She looked anxiously at Betsy, but couldn’t read anything on her face.

It was Johnny who spoke up. “These officers want to know if we saw any of the shooting. We already told them we hid in the kitchen until it was over.”

Angelica nodded. “We were there until just a few minutes ago. It was terrifying. That’s why …” she did a good job of looking embarrassed. “I was in the bathroom throwing up because I was so scared.”

“You didn’t even look outside?” the other officer asked. She couldn’t see his name tag because he was partly behind the other officer, but he had a skinny neck and greasy-looking hair.

“I locked the door as soon as I realized there was something going on,” Betsy said. “Then I locked the door into the kitchen. Whatever happened out there was nothing to do with us.”

“That’s right,” Conrad nodded. “You’re smart to stay out of it. Those people are dangerous. Just one more thing now before we go.”

“What’s that?” Betsy asked.

“We just have to search the building and, uh, I’m sorry, ma’am, but we’ll have to search all of you personally.”

“For what?” Betsy demanded, outraged.

“Unlicensed phones, firearms, anything like that,” Conrad told her apologetically.

Angelica had a tiny 380 pistol tucked into the back of her jeans, and she had tied the apron strings in a big bow over it. Even so, if they did a thorough search, they were bound to find it. Her thoughts raced while Betsy did her best to keep the Greaters’ attention, arguing over the search, demanding that a female officer be called, and promising to register an official complaint when that was refused. She made a show of writing down the badge numbers of both officers.

“If you’re going to search all of us, I want all of us in the room together while you do it,” Betsy insisted. “I won’t let you take anyone off alone.”

“Okay, okay,” Conrad agreed, exasperated.

While that discussion was going on, Angelica edged closer to Patty and then put her arms around her, apparently in a comforting hug. “I get searched last,” she whispered. “When they get to me, create a disturbance – cry, get upset, say that Johnny’s my boyfriend.”

“Okay,” Patty breathed. “Got it.”

“We’ll search the premises first,” Conrad announced, “and you all are coming with us. Linden,” he added to the skinny-necked guy, “you stay behind them and pay attention.”

Betsy led the way into the kitchen, complaining loudly about what a waste of time this all was. Conrad and Linden looked around, but the kitchen was small and spotless, with no place for anyone to hide. The bins of flour and sugar, several varieties of each, were neatly lined up on the wire shelves, along with containers of raisins, dried fruit, nuts, and chocolate chips. On the counter, there was a proofing box full of rising dough for tomorrow’s cinnamon rolls.

“Don’t open that box all the way,” Betsy told them. “If the cold air hits the dough, it will kill the yeast, and I’ll have to throw it all out. It’s bad enough I can hardly find sugar any more at any price. I can’t afford to lose a whole batch of cinnamon rolls. Don’t you dare ruin them.”

Conrad contented himself with lifting the lid of the box and peeking in to find that it did, indeed, contain dough, and he was beginning to feel a little foolish. Despite what he had been told, this coffee shop appeared to be just a coffee shop with nothing more dangerous than baked goods on hand.

They went from the kitchen to Betsy’s tiny office and the equally tiny restroom, both in perfect order, and then to the rather dimly lit store room, where there were tall shelves of supplies along with baking pans and utensils. One of the rows of shelves wasn’t flush with the wall, but that wasn’t immediately obvious. Betsy, doing her best to distract the Greaters, continued her tirade about harassing an honest woman just trying to make an honest living, and then Johnny “accidentally” bumped into something, bringing a pile of metal cake pans crashing to the floor. About that time, Patty began to whine, saying that her mother was going to be worried because she wasn’t home yet, and begging to be allowed to make a call. Permission was denied, and Betsy began to argue with the officers about that as well, with support from Angelica and Johnny. Finally Conrad yelled, “Shut up, all of you! Let’s get the searches done, and then you can go wherever you need to go.”

“Fine!” Betsy snapped. “Let’s do it right here and get it over with.”

If Conrad hadn’t been feeling quite so harassed, he might have insisted on moving to the kitchen or the office, which had better lighting, but he was eager to be done with this loudmouthed woman and her dimwitted employees. He searched Johnny first, finding absolutely nothing suspicious on him. Betsy volunteered to go next, standing rigidly still as Conrad ran his hands over her. Angelica watched closely. Conrad might want to get out of there as much as they did, but he was doing a by-the-book search.

“This is disgusting,” Betsy told him as he ran his hands between her breasts, over her backside and down the inside of her legs. “I’ll go to Commissioner Howe himself with this! Don’t think I won’t!”

Conrad was sweating. “Who’s next?” he asked.

“I’ll go,” Patty said, her lip trembling.

Conrad nodded at Linden who stepped up and began to search Patty. She had tears running down her face. _She won’t have to pretend to cry_ , Angelica thought. _She’s already crying. She went through something like this once before. That was more than enough. I wish Nat were here. He’d kill them._

The officer finished his search of Patty, and then turned to Angelica. Patty started sobbing in earnest and turned angrily to Johnny. “What’s the matter with you?” she yelled at him. “Are you going to let them molest your girlfriend right here in front of you and not even step up?”

Angelica’s cue: she fixed her mind on Patty and Eliza and all the other girls that were being assaulted every day by the Greaters, and the tears came. She held out her arms and wailed, “Johnny!”

Johnny, bless him, caught on instantly. He crossed the room in a few steps while Betsy ranted at Conrad and Patty had an Oscar-worthy tantrum.

“Allie, I’m so sorry you have to go through this,” Johnny said, taking Angelica into his arms. Angelica turned a little so that her back was toward the wall, and as she cried on Johnny’s shoulder, she whispered, “Gun in my waistband back.”

Johnny stroked her back to comfort her, slid his hand under her tee shirt and apron and got his hands on the 380. He pulled Angelica to him tightly to shield his hand and managed to get the gun into his front pocket. “It’s okay, babe,” he told Angelica loudly enough for the Greaters to hear him. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

Angelica cried harder, but from relief, and Johnny kept telling her it was okay. Then he turned to Conrad and asked, “Can I at least hold her hand while you search her?”

“ _Fine!_ ” Conrad snapped. He searched Angelica in record time and found nothing.

Betsy was still yelling. “…what you put us through! How am I going to tell the parents of these young people what you did? And after I swore to you that we had nothing to do with those lunatics in the streets. I am an honest citizen, and I have rights! You will hear from me, I promise, and your commanding officer will hear from me, and Commissioner Howe will hear from me! You haven’t heard the last of this!”

She followed them out to the front of the shop and opened the door for them. Angelica heard it close, and then, thank God, she heard the key turn in the lock and the sound of the window blinds being lowered. There was a moment of silence, and Betsy reappeared in the store room. “You guys okay?” she asked.

Angelica nodded and sank to the floor. Johnny put both hands on the wall and leaned forward, taking deep breaths. Patty said, “I think I’m going to throw up,” and ran for the bathroom.

Betsy squeezed behind the shelves and opened the conference room door. “All clear,” she said.

Alex pushed past her and went straight to Angelica.  “You all right?” he asked. “What happened? Where’s your gun.”

“Johnny’s got it,” she said.

Alex turned to Johnny. “How did you …”

Johnny stood up straight and looked him in the eye. “Jesus fucking Christ, I know I said I was with you guys, but this was a hell of a way to start.”

Alex held out his hand. “Thanks.”

John, Danny, Gil, and Herc were in the room now, and Gil looked around. “Where’s Patty?” he asked.

“Right here,” she responded, returning from the bathroom, her face pale.

Gil put his arm around her. “Are you all right?”

She nodded a little shakily. “I just … my stomach got upset from the stress.”

Gil smiled and kissed the top of her head. “You should have some tea and a snack,” he said softly. “It’s better if you eat small amounts several times a day.”

She looked up at him, wide-eyed, and he bent down and whispered, “Congratulations.”

She burst into tears and threw her arms around him. Angelica looked over in concern and Gil said, “Nervous reaction, and no wonder. Maybe we could have some tea.”

“The shop’s closed,” Betsy announced, “and there’s a day’s worth of pastries to get rid of. Help yourselves. Oh, and by the way, there won’t be any cinnamon rolls tomorrow.”

“Why not?” Angelica asked. “Did that stupid Greater ruin the dough when he opened the box?”

“Not exactly,” Betsy said. “Johnny, maybe you can explain what’s wrong with the cinnamon roll dough.”

Johnny managed a grin. “Where do you think I hid John’s gun?”

*          *          *          *          *

Two hours later, they were still in the conference room. Eliza had joined them, insisting on coming as soon as she got Angelica’s text. Gil asked her a lot of questions about her shoulder and reminded her to wear the sling.

“We’re going home to see the baby on Friday,” she said. “I don’t want Mom and Dad to know about what happened, so I’m going to leave the sling off.”

Gil opened his mouth to protest, and she cut him off. “I’ll wear it at night, and I won’t use my arm. They won’t even notice, but if I come in with the sling on, they’ll want the whole story. How could I even explain what I was doing in Philly?”

Gil acknowledged the truth of that, but made her promise to be extra careful.

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Angelica said.

Betsy was at the table, talking seriously with Alex and John. “It was like he had reason to suspect us,” she told them. “He didn’t ask us about any of you guys, though, so I don’t understand. It seems to be this location that they have questions about, not people. I mean, he didn’t even ask for our IDs.”

Alex frowned. “That’s weird.”

“You know,” John said, “when Nat and Patty were picked up that time in Pennsylvania, we never figured out whether it was one of them or the van that was informed on. Same thing now, but if it’s Betsy’s location, then it was probably the van.”

“That makes sense,” Alex agreed. “At least, it sort of makes sense, but who the hell is laying information about this coffee shop or Betsy’s van, but not about any of us? And why would they?”

“For what it’s worth,” Angelica put in, leaving Eliza on the couch with Gil and taking a seat at the table, “I don’t think they had any idea that this room existed. They never even examined the walls, just looked around.”

“Well, from what we could hear, you were doing plenty to distract them,” John said.

Angelica shuddered. “Don’t remind me. I don’t know what I would have done if Johnny hadn’t caught on right away. They would have found my gun for sure.”

“Well done, Johnny,” Alex said.

Johnny was on the floor with Danny. “Thanks.”

“And welcome to the Movement,” John added. “You always go by Johnny, right?”

“Yep, since I was born.”

“Okay, I’m John, you’re Johnny, and we should be able to keep that straight. What’s your last name, by the way?”

“Lamb, and if anybody says baa, I’m done with you.”

John laughed. “You’re going to need to stop by my apartment within the next couple of days and go over some stuff. Have you got a gun?”

“Not here. I have a couple of hunting rifles at home, but that’s upstate.”

“We’ll get you something you can keep here. And I’m sure it goes without saying that anything you learn about the Movement you keep to yourself.”

“Actually,” Johnny said, “Danny’s been going over a lot of that stuff with me.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Oh, has he now? I’m not sure Danny knows as much as he thinks he does.”

Alex interrupted. “That reminds me, Danny, how come you weren’t in school today?”

Danny glared at him. “I’m home with a strep throat.”

“Dammit,” Alex said, “does Tim know about it? Because we are not covering for you if you cut school.”

“Yes, he knows. He told me I could stay home because I needed to talk to John about something.”

“What?” Alex asked suspiciously.

Danny turned to John with an aggrieved look. “Do I have to tell him?”

“Yes,” John responded, trying not to smile.

“I’ve been messing around with different inks on my own, and I might have come up with something that we can use.”

“Why wouldn’t you want to tell me that?” Alex asked, genuinely puzzled.

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Danny mumbled, looking at the floor.

Alex snorted. “Okay, consider me surprised, but go to school tomorrow.”

“Jeez, Alex, I have straight A’s in every subject, and I’m bored out of my mind in school. Even Tim thinks I deserve a day off once in a while.”

“Wait,” Johnny said, finally putting two and two together, “you’re still in high school?”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I never said I was in college.”

“But I asked what year you were in and you said _sophomore_. You’re a sophomore in high school?”

“Yeah.”

Johnny looked around at the others. “What is he, some kind of boy genius or something?”

Alex laughed. “Pretty much. He’s John’s apprentice forger and he knows more than any of us about electronics. We just have to be careful he doesn’t get too cocky. There’s one thing about having Danny around that I really like, though.”

“What’s that?” Johnny asked.

“I’m not the youngest one here anymore.”

Herc, Angelica, and John burst out laughing.

“Oh, man, remember that night after the SPG meeting?” Herc asked.

“TJ and I were yelling at him about not being registered …” Angelica added.

“And Kat Livingston nearly lost her mind,” John put in, inevitably.

“Oh, poor Kat,” Eliza said, “I don’t think she’s ever gotten over it.”

Alex was bright red with embarrassment. “I should never have mentioned it,” he muttered.

“Then or now?” Herc asked, chuckling.

_“Ever!”_

“Excuse me,” Gil said, “but I think this was before I knew you. Maybe you can tell me why your age is so funny.”

“It’s not. Let’s go back to talking about Danny,” Alex responded.

“Don’t worry, Gil, I’ll give you all the details later,” John promised.

Alex was relieved when Betsy’s phone signaled a text. She looked at the screen and smiled at Patty. “He loves you,” she said.

“Again?” Patty asked, her cheeks pink. “He already told me this morning.”

“Does he only tell you once a day that he loves you?” Gil asked, frowning.

“Usually, since I can’t get a phone license, and he doesn’t want people to have to give me messages all the time. Besides, we write letters.”

“Does it say, _Tell her ‘I love you girl,’?”_ Alex asked. He still thought Patty and Nat’s endearments were a little odd.

Betsy shook her head. “No, it just says, _I love you, girl,_ and it was sent from Ben’s phone. Unless I’ve completely misunderstood and Ben is in love with me.”

“There’s something wrong with his phone,” Patty said, “so he’s texting me from Ben’s.”

“That’s right,” Alex recalled. “He emailed me that his phone was dead, but then Ben sent a text to disregard the email – or maybe Nat did, who the hell knows?”

“I’m glad I was here when the text came, but I should probably get home now,” Patty said. “I’m tired.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Gil told her. “It’s on my way.”

“Where’s your car?” Alex asked.

Gil smiled. “I never took it out of the garage today. Remember, we were just having coffee here?”

Alex blinked, remembering how normally the day had started. “Anyway,” he said, “you should get a cab or an Uber. It’s freezing out there.”

“Alex, it is eight degrees, and I have a perfectly good coat and gloves …”

 _“Eight?”_ Alex yelped.

 _“Celsius, mon ami,”_ Gil told him, laughing. _“Il fait pas très froid.”_

Alex did some quick calculations in his head. “That’s still cold.”

“For you, maybe. I can walk a few blocks without suffering hypothermia. Come on, Patty.”

“Thanks for walking with me,” Patty said when they were out on the sidewalk. There were very few people on the street after the events of the day, and here and there broken glass on the sidewalk or the pavement glittered in the glare of the street lights. “And thanks for not saying anything to anybody.”

He knew what she was talking about. “I won’t, you know, unless you tell me it’s okay, but if I figured it out, other people will too.”

She nodded. “I think Betsy has.” She looked up at him, smiling. “We want to tell people, really, but – I know I can trust you, so I’m going to tell you something. Nat and I are getting married over Thanksgiving break, and then we’re going to tell our parents before we tell anybody else.”

“That’s only a few weeks away.” Gil bent down and kissed her on the cheek. “I wish you all the joy in the world.”

“Thank you.” She gave a happy little skip. “Do you remember that night you walked me home from John’s, back when I had a thing for him, and we talked about love?”

He nodded. “I do.”

“You told me you were sure that you would find the right person someday.”

“Yes.”

“When you said that, I didn’t understand how you could believe it because finding the right person seemed so complicated. And then with John and Alex – don’t get me wrong, I love both of them, but there’s so much _drama_ …”

“Indeed,” Gil agreed.

“And then I met Nat.” She looked up and she could see Gil’s smile.

“And?”

“And it was all easy.”

“That’s how it should be,” he said. “Love shouldn’t fill your life with stress and drama and worry. It should …” He tried to find the right words. “It should bring you peace in your heart.”

“Oh, Gil, that’s lovely,” she said. “What a beautiful way to say it.”

Gil shrugged, embarrassed. “I think it is accidental because my English is not good enough to be poetic.”

“I’m going to write it down,” she told him. “I’ll put it in my next letter to Nat. That’s how he makes me feel.”

“Then I think you are in love,” Gil said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John Lamb was a member of the Sons of Liberty in New York City, along with Alexander Hamilton, Hercules Mulligan, Marinus Willet, Daniel Phoenix, Joseph Allicocke, and a few others who haven't yet turned up in this story.  
> No progress was made in dealing with Alex's romantic issues in this chapter because there were other things going on. Alex still has to figure that out, maybe with a little help from his friends. The important question, though, is who's giving information to the Greaters and what kind of information is it? Is anybody in danger? Is everybody in danger?  
> Many thanks, as always, for kudos and comments. I love to hear from you!


	44. The Night Gets Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are changing at the university. Marty Middicks talks to Alex, but Alex is suspicious. Nat is late. Alex tries to talk to Eliza, but it doesn't work out well. Ben arrives unexpectedly with alarming news.

Alex had checked all the news sources he could, and it seemed that riots were going on in cities across the country. TV and internet news weren’t reliable any more, but he had talked to Tony and TJ, and TJ had heard from Frank. He’d left voicemails for Ben and Ethan, but he wasn’t expecting their reports to be any different.

Some of the professors were cancelling classes because of the riots. Alex went to see Dr. Barron and found him packing up his office.

 _“Qu’est-ce qui se passe?”_ he asked, knowing the office was bugged. Of course King’s network would be able to find translators, but why make it easy for them?

Dr. Barron looked at him and sighed. “I’m afraid I won’t be finishing the semester, Alexander. I’m to submit grades based on the work my students have already completed. I don’t know if they’ll bring in someone else to take my classes or if they will just use the grades for work to date.” He shrugged. “I would have liked to stay and see you students through the courses, but that will not be possible.”

“Who made the decision?” Alex asked, his jaw clenched in anger.

Dr. Barron gave a faint smile and shook his head. “People in charge.” He held out his hand. “I hope that I see you again some time. Perhaps in the future, we will be in contact with one another.”

Alex shook his hand. Was the professor trying to tell him something? “That would be great,” he said. “I’ll give you my number and my email.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Dr. Barron said quickly, frowning and shaking his head in warning. “I’m sure I’ll be able to find you. And now, you must excuse me.” He turned back to his bookshelves, and Alex knew he had been dismissed.

He was still seething when he entered his Principles of Commerce class, angry at whatever authority had dismissed a brilliant professor, angry at Dr. Barron for not fighting it publicly, angry at himself for not protesting it. He was a few minutes early, so he texted Angelica about Dr. Barron, knowing he was one of her favorite professors too. He didn’t notice Marty Middicks sliding into the seat next to him until he was already there, and he looked up, annoyed. Marty usually sat in the back of the class and didn’t participate much.

“Hey, can I talk to you after class?” Marty asked just as Professor Goddard entered the room.

“Yeah, okay,” Alex responded indifferently.

“Did John tell you what I said?” Marty persisted.

Alex just shook his head and Professor Goddard gave Marty her well-known raised eyebrow. Students did not chat with one another in Goddard’s class.

Alex took his usual thorough notes and had almost forgotten that Marty wanted to talk with him by the time class was over. When he stood up, though, there was Marty, looking uncomfortable but determined.

“You want to get coffee or something?” he asked.

“I don’t have time,” Alex told him. “I’ve only got a half-hour break now.”

Marty followed him into the hall, and Alex, resigned to having to listen, took a seat on one of the benches in the atrium. “What do you want?” he inquired bluntly.

“John and Herc didn’t tell you about Sylvia’s family?” Marty asked.

“Uh, yeah, they said something about it. Her family’s business is tanking and they’re going to become Deplos, right?” Alex shrugged. “It sucks and all, but I don’t know what you think anybody can do about it.”

Marty bit his lip and sat down. “I know you and John and the Schuyler sisters are involved in some of the anti-government stuff.”

“Oh, you know that, do you? That’s interesting because I don’t even know that. What anti-government stuff are we supposed to be doing?”

“I know you’ve organized marches, you’ve spoken openly about what you think of President King. I saw your article in the _Spectator._ ”

Alex shrugged, his face expressionless, but giving silent thanks that Marty hadn’t mentioned things like sabotaging businesses and killing police officers. “Yeah, well, everybody knows those things.”

“I’m thinking I’d like to do some of that stuff too.”

“Go right ahead. You don’t need my permission. If you want, I’ll put you on the mailing list for the next march.”

“Yeah, okay, is that all?”

Alex blew out an exasperated breath. “What do you want, Marty? You want me to tell you how Sylvia’s family can save their status? I don’t have a fucking clue. As I recall, you supported Blodman, so, you know, you reap what you sow.”

“I didn’t know it would be like this. I mean, nobody knew Blodman would have a stroke and King would end up in charge,” Marty protested.

“Right. Nobody could read up on King’s record and think about what kind of President he might make. Nobody could research the candidates and seriously evaluate their qualifications for the job.” Alex’s sarcasm was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Marty flushed, but he stayed where he was. “I was wrong, okay? Is that what you want me to say? I know better now.”

“Good.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“So can I … you know, work on whatever you guys work on?”

Alex’s mind was racing. What did Marty know? What did he think they were doing? He kept his face blank and shrugged. “I told you I’ll put you on the mailing list. That’s about all I can do. In the meantime, if you really believe what you’re saying, then talk to people about it. Write letters. Call your members of Congress. That’s what we’re all doing.”

“That’s it?”

“For fuck’s sake, Marty, do you think there’s a secret handshake or something?”

“Fine,” Marty snapped, standing up. “I just want to help.”

Alex looked him in the eye, wondering how much to believe. “I’ll call you when we need you,” he said coolly.

Marty turned on his heel and walked away. Alex stayed on the bench, his head in his hands. His hair had gotten long enough that it fell into his eyes, and he shoved it back impatiently, half annoyed with himself at having vowed to let it grow in solidarity with John. He was suddenly ashamed of himself at that thought. John asked so little of him and gave so much, and this was such a small thing he could do to symbolize his loyalty … his loyalty that maybe was on shaky ground now. A wave of longing swept over him, longing to hold onto John right at that moment, coupled with an equally strong desire to take Eliza in his arms again.

Thank God it was time for his next class and he could think about something else.

*          *          *          *          *

Ben wasn’t surprised that Nat hadn’t come home Monday night, but he was a little surprised that he hadn’t heard from him. Still, it was no big deal; Nat had said he might stay over, and he didn’t have a class until noon. He might just drive back and go straight to class. It wasn’t like he had to check in or anything.

Ben had ordered a jammer, a couple of sniffers, and four phones from two of the dark websites TJ had given them. He used an account in the name of John Bolton, opened with the fake ID John had made him, and financed with a credit card that “John Bolton” had gotten online. Bolton’s credit history was entirely fictional, and his address was a private mailbox that Ben would close as soon as he got the items. They’d have to keep changing the addresses, which was going to be a pain, but faking the financial information was getting easier, and he liked doing this tech stuff. He signed up to be on the mailing lists of Rachel’s Rosebuds, the One-Stop Sock Shop, and _Le Beau Bébé_ under three different email addresses, hoping they would communicate with him if they were shut down. TJ’s tech person had said that happened all the time, but they would open again under different names. If only President King knew how much entrepreneurial spirit he was inspiring, Ben thought bitterly. Before he went to class he put on his shoulder holster and stuck his Glock in it, not sure if he was being smart or stupid. He stood in front of the mirror, making sure his jacket hid it, and he caught the reflected somber look on his face. _I’d better get used to it,_ he thought.

*          *          *          *          *

When Nat opened his eyes, it was completely dark, and he didn’t know where he was. His head was pounding, and he was cold. He tried to shift his position a little and realized that his arms and legs were bound. He blinked, but the darkness didn’t change. He could wiggle his fingers though. That was good. That meant the blood was still circulating. Blood. That was what he tasted. He had blood in his mouth. Why did he have blood in his mouth? He ran his tongue over his teeth and found that the top right incisor was raggedly sharp. _Mom will hate that_ , he thought, _after all the money they spent on orthodontia._ Why were his thoughts so scattered? He tried to focus, but the pain in his head made it hard to think. Where had he been? Oh, wait, he’d had dinner at Sybil’s house, and her mom wanted to know where Patty was. Why wasn’t Patty with him? Fragments of memory began to come back, bringing a wave of shapeless fear that left him shaking. There had been bright lights and loud noises. _I love you, girl._ Voices shouting at him. Then terrible pain and darkness.

*          *          *          *          *

Alex knew Eliza and Angelica had different schedules on Tuesdays, so as he expected, he found Eliza in the cafeteria at lunch time, standing in line for a sandwich.

“I’ll get your sandwich if you find us a table,” he said.

It was nothing they hadn't done before, but she looked at him warily, not answering.

“You can’t carry a tray with one hand. You want turkey and lettuce on whole wheat, right? Lemonade and an oatmeal cookie?”

“Alex …”

“Just lunch, Eliza.”

She wondered if the time would ever come when she’d be able to say no to him about anything. She handed him a five dollar bill and went to get napkins and straws before finding her way to a table against the wall. She sat down and leaned on her right hand, reflecting on the possibility of a sort of middle ground with Alex. _Friends, but only friends, this far, and no farther._ Should she establish rules of some sort? No touching? No, that would be ridiculous. _Just be friendly_ , she told herself, almost believing it would be possible, _be friendly but nothing more_.

Alex arrived with the tray and made a big show of setting everything in front of her, and then he sat down with his own sandwich and coffee.

“How’s your shoulder feeling?” he asked.

“It’s not bad,” she said. “I talked to the physical therapist this morning, and he sent me a video of exercises to use until I get to see him. I have an appointment for Friday morning.”

“Then Friday afternoon, you go see your new sister.”

Eliza’s face lit with a smile. “You should hear Mom. She’s so happy. I knew Dad was, but I haven’t been sure about Mom, but now that Katie’s here, she’s every bit as thrilled as Dad is.”

“Nobody’s going to spoil that baby, right?” Alex grinned.

“No, of course not. Dad really spoiled all of us, to tell the truth. Mom always had to be the disciplinarian.”

“You’ve all turned out pretty well, so whatever they did worked.”

“Thank you.” She gave her full attention to putting a leaf of lettuce back in her sandwich.

“Eliza …”

She took a deep breath, still looking at her plate. “Please don’t, Alex.”

“Sweetheart, we can’t just …”

“Don’t call me that.”

He hadn’t even realized he’d done it. He tried again. “I talked to John.”

She finally looked up. “You told him?”

“I couldn’t _not_ tell him.”

“When?”

“As soon as I got back from Philly.”

She stared at him. “John’s a saint,” she said flatly.

“I’ve often thought that.”

“How does he even …”

“Put up with me?”

“Well, yes.”

“John knows me. He knows me better than anyone ever has, and he loves me. He loves me way more than I deserve.”

Eliza nodded slowly. “That’s true. What did he say?”

“He said I have to figure it out.”

“And have you?”

“No.”

 She searched his face, trying to figure out what it was about him that was like no other man she had ever met. Why was it his eyes that held her, his smile that swept her away every time? Right now, she wanted to reach across the table and touch him, brush his hair out of his eyes, but she knew that was too dangerous. Her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t … I can’t be some sort of part-time amusement for you, Alex.”

“No,” he said, and he grabbed her hand. “No, I would never …”

She pulled her hand away, and the tears spilled over and ran down her face. “Please don’t touch me,” she whispered. “Please don’t touch me anymore.”

*          *          *          *          *

Herc had come over on Wednesday evening to work with John on Danny’s new ink recipe, and Alex had gotten bored listening to them talk about pigments and reflectivity, so he’d gotten up to go poke around in the cupboards, hoping John had hidden some sugar somewhere.

“Give up, babe,” John yelled from the couch, laughing. “If I hide it, you’ll never find it.”

Alex was considering standing on a chair to check the top shelves when somebody knocked on the door – pounded on it, really, so that John and Herc stood up and moved toward him as he went to answer it.

It was Ben, his face pale and panicked-looking, his eyes ringed with purple shadows, a couple of days’ stubble on his chin. He looked like he’d slept in his clothes.

“What the hell?” Alex gasped. He grabbed him and pulled him inside. He locked the door. “What are you doing here?”

“There’s no safe way I could get word to you,” Ben said, his voice rough. His eyes met Alex’s and his face crumpled. “Nat’s gone.”

“What? What do you mean, _gone?_ ”

Ben sank into a chair and put his head down on his arms. John began to make tea, and Herc said, “I’m calling Angelica.”

Alex nodded distractedly and sat down next to Ben, rubbing his back. “You’re freezing,” he said.

Ben’s shoulders were shaking, but he wasn’t making a sound. Alex put his arm around him. “Come on, Ben, tell me what happened.”

Ben finally looked up, and Alex could see the whites of his eyes all around the iris as if he was terrified. “Nat’s got my phone,” he said and choked on the words, gagging. Herc, thinking fast, shoved a trash can in front of him, and Ben vomited into it, nothing but yellow bile, coughing and sobbing. He kept retching even after he couldn’t bring anything else up, his haggard face streaked with bile and tears.

Alex went pale, but he continued to hang over Ben, continuing to rub his back and his shoulders, until the spasms finally passed. Herc brought a warm washcloth and a towel, and Alex wiped Ben’s face gently.

“Tell me what you know,” he said.

Ben coughed, and John put a mug in front of him. “It’s weak tea with sugar,” he said.

“I can’t,” Ben muttered. He sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

“A little at a time,” John told him. He knelt down, stirred the tea and took some on the spoon. “Here you go,” he said, his voice soft. “Just a spoonful.” He fed him as if he were a baby and let him take a break after a few spoonfuls.

Ben swallowed and turned to Alex. “He went to Boston on Monday, to take the electronics information that you brought us.”

“Alone?”

Tears filled Ben’s eyes again, and he wiped them away angrily. “We thought … you came up from Philly alone, and …”

“Fuck.”

“He got there by noon, met Sybil and gave her the papers. Her parents wanted him to stay for dinner, and they had an early dinner so he wouldn’t be late. He left at seven.”

“So he should have been back by ten at the latest.”

“Yeah. But I didn’t know … he had said before he left that he might stay over and come back on Tuesday because he didn’t have any classes until noon, so I didn’t think … I didn’t bother to check …” He fumbled for the mug of tea, and John moved quickly so he wouldn’t knock it over. He put it carefully into Ben’s hand and held it steady as he drank it.

Alex’s eyes met John’s across the table. “He texted Patty around eight o’clock,” John said.

“What?” Ben asked.

“We were at Betsy’s, all of us, after the riots here,” John explained. “Betsy got a text from your phone. It was just Nat’s usual _I love you, girl_ message to Patty, but she said she’d already heard from him in the morning. None of us thought anything of it.”

“So he was okay then …” Alex began.

“Maybe not,” John spoke without thinking. “Maybe he saw something coming and got that message off.”

“Ah, _fuck,_ ” Ben gasped.

John put his hand on Ben’s. “I’m sorry. I don’t know anything. I’m probably completely wrong.”

Ben shook his head. “No, it’s … listen, there’s more. I started calling on Tuesday night. I thought he was in class all afternoon. I didn’t even bother …”

“It’s okay,” John told him.

“It’s _not_. I borrowed a phone from a girl I know, Mary. I called Sybil, and that’s when she told me he’d left Monday after dinner. It was already more than twenty-four hours. She called everybody else in Boston, and nobody’d heard anything. I just kept calling my phone and getting voicemail. I was up all night. I didn’t know … then this morning, Nat’s brother Billy turned up at the door. He was frantic, you know? They’d been trying to call Nat, and then when they couldn’t get him, trying to call me …” He choked on a quick intake of breath, and John helped him drink more tea. “Nat’s dad got a call.”

“From who?” Alex asked quickly, his eyes on Ben’s face.

“Greaters in Auburn. Auburn, Massachusetts, about an hour from Boston. They’d found Nat’s car, they said. It was registered at his home address, so that’s where they called.”

“Found it where?”

“On three ninety-five. Abandoned, they said. It’s bullshit. Nat would have … he would have called you or Sybil or the General, for God’s sake, if he couldn’t call me.”

Alex nodded, biting his lip. “Yeah.”

“Nat’s dad is sick – did you know? He’s having chemo …”

“Ah, shit, no …”

“So he sent Billy. He’s seventeen, a senior in high school. We drove up to Auburn.” He started to cry.

Angelica got there then, Eliza and Gil right behind her. Angelica took in the situation at a glance and went straight to Herc, who was standing silently in the kitchen.

“What happened?” she asked urgently.

He told her what he’d heard so far, and she reached behind her for Eliza’s hand. “Oh, my God, no.”

Alex was rubbing Ben’s back and trying desperately to refrain from asking him more questions. He looked up at Angelica, his face filled with pain.

Ben took a deep breath and wiped his face with the washcloth that was still on the table. “They had the car in the impound lot. Billy and I got there, and they took us to see it. It had been burned.”

“What?”

“They said …goddam mother fucking bastards said they’d towed the car in, and vandals had burned it in the impound lot. Just that one car. They looked at each other like it was a joke. I wanted … I could have killed them.”

“My God, Ben.”

“So there’s no … we don’t know …” He swallowed hard and looked up. “Billy and I checked the car. We went over it ... oh, God, Billy has to tell his parents …Nat wasn’t in the car when they burned it. That’s all I know.” He began to cry again, shaking, and Alex stood up. He walked into the kitchen, and Gil took his place next to Ben.

Alex reached out to Angelica and pulled her over to the window.

“It’s bad, Ange. He’s got Ben’s phone.”

She waited for him to explain, but he kept biting his lip. He ran his hands through his hair and then shoved one into his pocket and the other over his mouth, as if he didn’t know what to do with them.

Angelica reached out and grabbed both his arms, holding them still. “Tell me,” she said.

“There’s stuff on Ben’s phone. He recorded …”

“What?”

“President Washington. When he told us.”

Angelica looked frantically back and forth between Ben and Alex. “But why?” she hissed. “Why risk that?”

“He thought … there should be … a record.” Alex was taking breaths between words, his voice shaking. “He hid it.”

“Hid the phone?”

“No.” Alex shook his head in frustration. “Hid the recording … said he knew how … hid it digitally.” He looked directly at Angelica, his eyes wide. “I told him to get rid of it.”

Her eyes spilled over and she put her arms around him. “It’s not your fault.”

“I _told_ him, Ange.”

She stroked his hair. “I know. I know.”

Alex pulled back and gestured vaguely. “I have to …”

“Yeah, I know.”

He went back to Ben. John had fed him a little more tea, but he was still shivering, and Herc had gotten him one of John’s sweaters.

“I don’t want it,” he said irritably, pushing Herc’s hand away. Herc looked at Gil.

Gil touched Ben’s hand lightly. “Listen, Ben, I think you might be what we call a little shocky. You’re feeling cold, right?”

Ben shrugged, barely paying attention.

“You know,” Gil continued in a conversational tone, “it’s not really cold in here, so I’m thinking maybe you’ve had an adrenaline spike, and now you’re coming down from that. It makes you feel cold and shaky, maybe a little sick.”

Ben gave a brief nod.

“I think it would be a good idea for you to put the sweater on, and maybe have something to eat. John’s going to get you some soup.” He jerked his head at John, who went right to the kitchen, and Gil took the sweater from Herc.  Very gently, he helped Ben put it on.

Ben looked around as if he were disoriented. “Alex?”

“Right here.”

“We have to find Nat.”

Alex nodded. “I know. You eat some of the soup, and then we can make a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've left you hanging, but there are so many things going on that information is going to come in bits and pieces.  
> The big question, of course, is what has happened to Nat? What will happen now, and how in the world will they break this news to Patty?  
> What, if anything, does Marty Middicks know? Is he the doofus he seems to be, or is there more going on with him?  
> And when, if ever, will the Alex-Eliza-John issue be resolved?  
> Everything else is being swept aside for the moment, while everybody focuses on Nat. I'll update as soon as I can, but it may take a week to move all the chess pieces around on my board.


	45. You Need All the Help You Can Get

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patty is told about Nat. She reveals some information. Alex contacts the General and plans are being made. Nat tries to figure things out. Secure phones help communication, but who's really in the Movement and who isn't?.

Eliza put her hand on Angelica’s arm. “We’ve got to tell Patty.”

Angelica nodded. “I know.”

“Right now,” Eliza said. “If she’s heard from him since Monday night, that’s information Alex and Ben need. If she hasn’t, she’ll be worried already.”

“Is she working now?”

“I don’t know her schedule, but Betsy closes in half an hour. Call her. If Patty’s there, we’ll go.”

Angelica made a quick call and told Betsy they were on their way without explaining any more. Eliza took John aside and told him that they were going to bring Patty back with them.

“Maybe she’ll want her mom,” John suggested.

Eliza shook her head. “She’ll want to talk to Ben.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He looked from her to Angelica. “You both going?”

“Yeah.”

He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Be strong,” he whispered.

She nodded and followed Angelica out the door.

It was cold, and they breathed out little clouds into the darkness. Eliza tucked her arm into her sister’s. “Ange, what if …”

“Don’t,” Angelica cut her off. “We don’t know anything yet. Let’s not go straight to the worst possible outcome.”

Eliza clung to her, reminding herself of John’s words. She had to be strong for Patty. They all did. Nat was Patty’s boyfriend and Ben’s best friend, so it was up to the rest of them to do whatever was needed to support them.

They got to Betsy’s just as she was about to pull the blinds and lock the door. Betsy gave them a questioning look, knowing something was wrong, but didn’t say anything. Mark was behind the counter and Patty was coming around it, her coat over her arm. She looked at their faces and went pale, grabbing the counter for support.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice shaking.

Angelica had crossed the room and held out her hands. “Patty, Ben’s at John’s …”

“Why’s he here? Where’s Nat?” She looked from Angelica to Eliza and back, and her voice rose in panic. “Oh, my God, _where’s Nat?”_

She dropped to her knees before Angelica could catch her, and then everybody moved at once, Mark bringing a chair, Betsy locking the door and running to kneel beside her with Eliza, Angelica holding her hands and trying to talk, but Patty was sobbing. “I knew. _I knew._ He didn’t send me a message yesterday or today. He wouldn’t do that. Where is he? What happened to him?”

“We don’t know yet,” Eliza said, her hand on Patty’s shoulder. “He may be fine. We don’t know anything.”

“Why’s Ben here?” Patty asked, trying to make sense of something.

“He came to get our help,” Angelica told her. “Come back with us, and you can talk to him.” _And a lot of good that will do,_ she thought, _with Ben looking like death and almost as upset as Patty._

Eliza pulled Betsy aside. “Can you call her mom, tell her Patty’s spending the night with Angelica and me? She’s done it before, it won’t worry her.”

“Sure.” Betsy looked at Patty, sobbing now on Angelica’s shoulder. “God help her.”

With a shock, Eliza recalled that Betsy had lost her wife in an accident not long after they were married. Someone must have come to give her the bad news, and that’s what was in Betsy’s mind now.

“Betsy, I’m sorry,” she whispered. “This must bring back …”

Betsy nodded briefly. “Yeah, it does, but I’m okay. At least Jackie and I had some time together.” She gave a faint smile. “And I’m jumping the gun here. Nat may be fine. It’s just … well, this is where the police came to tell me, and it’s a little too familiar.”

Eliza hugged her tight with her good arm. “We never thank you enough for everything you do for us.”

“It’s okay. We all have to fight for what’s right, don’t we?”

Mark came up to them. “Can I do anything?” he asked Eliza, a worried frown creasing his face. “I feel so useless.” He looked over at Patty, still clinging to Angelica. “I want to help her.”

“Do you have your car?”

“Yeah, it’s out back.”

“Maybe you could drive us to John’s. I know it’s only a few blocks, but I don’t think Patty can walk.”

“Absolutely, of course, anything.” He seemed grateful for the chance to help.

Eliza went to speak to Angelica. “Mark’s driving us back,” she said. “We should get going.”

Angelica nodded, relieved. “Patty, listen, Mark’s going to take us to John’s so you don’t have to walk. Then you can talk to Ben and Alex. We’re going to go now.”

They followed Mark to the back door and said a quick goodbye to Betsy, promising to call if there was any news. It only took a few minutes to get to John’s apartment.

“Okay if I come up?” Mark asked. “Maybe I can help.”

Angelica hesitated for a minute, not sure how Alex would feel, but she didn’t want to turn away any offers of help. “Sure,” she said.

Mark found a parking space and caught up with them before they were in the elevator. He started to put his arm around Patty, but she pulled away, hanging onto Angelica. _Oh, shit,_ Angelica thought. _That was a mistake._

Patty went right to Ben when they got inside the apartment and insisted that he tell her the whole story. Angelica stayed with her, while Eliza was perceptive enough to hand Mark off to Herc with a few words about Mark wanting to help. Herc wasn’t quite sure what the subtext was, but he gathered that he was to keep Mark busy, so he got him studying back roads on a map of the Auburn, Massachusetts area. Gil was sitting with Ben, and Alex was on the phone.

“Who’s Alex talking to?” Eliza asked John.

“The General. They’re working on what we do next.” He handed her a cup of tea. “Here. You’ll need it. It’s going to be a long night.”

Eliza accepted it gratefully. “Thanks.” She took a sip of the tea, then said hesitantly, “John, when we get a chance, maybe …”

John smiled faintly and put his arm around her shoulders. “I know what you’re going to say. Let’s get through this first.” He kissed her forehead.

Tears filled her eyes. “You know I love you, right?”

“Fuck, yeah,” he said. “I love you too.” He turned and went back to handing out mugs of tea.

Alex had been pacing, but now he sat down at the kitchen table and started scribbling in a ragged spiral notebook, still holding the phone to his ear.

Angelica made Patty drink some tea, and Gil was hovering over her now, with John sitting next to Ben. Finally Alex hung up and turned his chair around to face everyone else.

“John,” he said, “How long before we get the electronic stuff we ordered.”

“The jammers and sniffer are probably in the mailbox now. I didn’t get a chance to check today. The phones probably tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Alex nodded. “As of now, consider all your phones insecure. The only reason I was able to talk to the General is that his phone is secure and his tech people are bouncing off half a dozen towers. Even so, we didn’t mention names or locations, just designations like ‘the Harvard Girl’ for Abbie, that sort of thing.”

“But he knows it’s Nat, right?” Patty asked anxiously.

“Absolutely,” Alex assured her. “Nat was the only blond guy among the interns. That made it easy. Anyway, we were able to communicate without much difficulty, and we’re going to start working on this now. First, I’m going to be in contact with every other unit of the Movement along the East Coast to let them know what has happened. That’s partly to keep them informed, but also to let them know that we all need to watch our backs. The General is calling Ethan right now, because the Boston squad is closest to Auburn. One of the General’s first questions is why Auburn. It’s a pretty vanilla little town, nothing significant about it at all. Doesn’t seem to be any independent resistance going on there or anything else that would trigger the Greaters to make this kind of move.”

“Do you think this is related to the other time Nat was picked up with Patty in Pennsylvania?” John asked.

Alex shook his head. “It doesn’t seem like it. Our best guess is that the information that was laid then was about the van, because as of Monday it looked like there was information laid about Betsy’s. There’s no way to be sure, though. It’s possible Nat himself is a target, but I have no idea why him more than any of us.” He spread his hands out and looked from Patty to Ben. “Honest to God, all we’re doing right now is best-guessing.”

“What’s the General talking to Ethan about?” Angelica asked.

“The Boston squad is going to start tomorrow doing a search of the Auburn area. They’re a big group, the biggest one in the country right now, which is helpful. Auburn’s a relatively small town, so they’re going to do a grid search for places where Nat might be held. It’s extremely unlikely that he’s in any official holding location. The Greaters can’t claim he abandoned the car if they have him on the premises.”

“That makes sense,” John said. “So they’ll be looking for empty buildings in general, maybe places at a distance from residences?”

“Yeah, and the town is small enough that they should be able to cover it in a few days. He expects to have a report by Monday or Tuesday.”

“Monday or Tuesday?” Patty echoed. “That long?”

Alex looked at her, his eyes dark with sympathy. “Even with a fairly small town, it takes a lot of time driving up and down every street, taking notes and taking pictures, especially when they’re going to have to do their best not to be seen. And, of course, that’s assuming that Nat is still in Auburn.”

“And that’s assuming that he’s still alive,” Patty added, her voice shaky but her chin up.

“Ah, Patty …” Alex crossed the room and knelt in front of her. “We’re going to do every single thing we can to bring him home.”

“I know,” she said. She took a breath. “I need to tell you something, something that probably won’t make any difference in how you look for Nat, but I want you to know.” She looked around the room from face to face to include them all, ending with Gil, to whom she gave an especially affectionate smile. He nodded at her encouragingly. “I’m pregnant. Nat and I are planning to get married over Thanksgiving break, so I’d like to have him back by then.”

*          *          *          *          *

John went to the private mailbox first thing on Thursday and picked up four jammers, two sniffers, and the half dozen phones he had ordered from the dark websites. He then cancelled the mailbox, went to another Pak’n’Ship and opened a new one as Sean Burns. Alex heaved a sigh of relief when he saw the new equipment and immediately ordered another ten phones, using a hacked credit card in the name of James Hawthorn. He had them sent to yet another private mailbox that Herc had opened using the ID Simon Wilson. They were lucky that they were in New York City, with hundreds of small shipping businesses where they could rent mailboxes. There was no way to know how much longer private shipping would remain legal, so he wanted to stock up on as much as he could. He was able to program the new phones using the information he’d gotten from the electronics tutorials that TJ’s tech genius was sending.

He handed a phone to John. “One for you, one for me, the other four for Angelica, Eliza, Herc, and Gil? That sound all right to you?”

“Sure. We’ve got more coming in a few days for anybody else.”

“Who else do you think?”

“Betsy, for sure, Patty, Danny, maybe Tim?”

Alex nodded. “That’s what I thought, but after them it gets iffy.”

“What do you mean?”

“Deb Sampson, Joe Allicocke, Nate Pendleton, Rob Townsend, Johan Livingston? Who’s first in line? They’re all good, I think, but what about Mark Willet? Was he being a little weird last night?”

John shrugged. “I think he’s got a thing for Patty.”

Alex snorted. “Well, that’s going nowhere.”

“Right, and I’m sure he knows it, but that doesn’t mean he can just turn off his feelings.” John was apparently examining the table top intently.

Alex was silent for a few seconds, then went on hastily, “Yeah, okay, true, but I don’t know if I want to give him one of the secure phones.”

“Why don’t we wait till tonight and ask everybody else?”

Alex nodded. “Good point. I should get input.”

John looked up at him and smiled. “Yeah.”

Angelica and Eliza had taken Patty back to their dorm room the night before. She was going to talk to her mother sometime during the day, but she had made it clear she wanted to stay involved with all the activities and strategies that were being developed. Ben had slept at Gil‘s apartment. They were all returning to meet with Alex and John at five o’clock. Alex was hoping to make it to a couple of classes, but he was waiting for Frank Marion to return his call. He’d reported everything to TJ at the General’s request, and TJ’s tech expert was scanning highway and bridge cameras to try to track Nat’s car as they had with the van. So far, no luck on that, but reviewing the security footage was time consuming, and Nat’s nondescript Chevy was a lot harder to spot than Betsy’s white van. Even if they found it, there was no saying it would be helpful, since they knew where Nat had been and his burnt-out car was still in the impound lot in Auburn.

He’d also talked to Ethan at length about how the Boston squad was setting up the grid search. It was killing him that somebody else was supervising it, but Ethan was smart and well-organized and even Alex had to recognize that he was doing an excellent job. Ethan was officially in charge of the Boston squad now with Abbie Smith and John Adams leaving for their semester abroad right after Christmas. They had originally planned to study in France, but student visas for France had recently been restricted as the French government became more and more hostile toward President King. As a result, Abbie and her boyfriend would be attending classes at Oxford, which was fine with them. Alex was still furious at what he saw as their abandonment of the Movement, so he was happy to deal with Ethan instead.

While waiting for Frank to get back to him, Alex called Tim and filled him in on the situation.

Tim didn’t waste time. “You home now?” he asked. “I’ll be right over.”

Alex wouldn’t have admitted it, but he was grateful. John had gone to class, since there was nothing else he could do in the apartment, and Alex hated being alone. He felt useless, and it was taking all his self-control not to get into his car and drive to Auburn himself. The General, knowing Alex well, had expressly forbidden that. “Let Ethan’s guys handle the search,” he had said. “Then we’ll see where we go from there.”

Tim gave Alex a hug and said, “I wouldn’t mind some coffee,” more to give Alex something to do than for any other reason. Alex made the coffee and added milk and a tiny bit of sugar to each cup and carried it to the table. He showed Tim the electronic items and told him they had ordered a phone for him.

“I appreciate that,” Tim responded. “How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing,” Alex said. “We’ve set up a few hacked accounts.”

Tim looked pained. “So, stolen money?”

Alex thought about it. “Well, technically, I guess.”

“Slippery slope, Alex.”

“Says the guy whose church is named for a thief.” Alex took a sip of coffee and shook his head. “If we could buy them openly, we would. Everything’s illegal.”

“I know, I know,” Tim sighed. “I keep telling myself God will understand why I break laws and tell lies, but I wonder how many people have tried to justify truly evil acts that way.”

Alex gave him an affectionate smile. “Rev, there isn’t an evil bone in your body.”

“Just be careful with all this ‘end justifies the means’ stuff.”

“I’ll try.” He drank some more coffee. “We got a phone for Danny too.”

“I figured. Danny’s all in. I think he wants to be John Laurens when he grows up.”

“Except for the gay thing.”

Tim laughed. “Right. I keep expecting Danny to come home with a girlfriend at some point, but he tells me he’s too busy. Thank God for small mercies.”

“On that topic, I have a request,” Alex said. “Nat and Patty want to get married over Thanksgiving break. Would you be interested in performing the ceremony?”

“I would be honored.” Tim’s face changed. “How is Patty?”

“Terrified. She stayed with Angelica and Eliza last night, and I think that was good for her. She was going to talk to her mom today, but I don’t how helpful her mom will be. She’s a nice lady, don’t get me wrong, but Patty’s used to handling things herself.”

“Kind of like Danny?”

“Yeah,” Alex nodded. “Danny should come over tonight so he gets all the information. You know, Rev, he’s as much a part of this as any of us.”

“I know. His heart is in it, and I couldn’t stop him if I tried – not that I’d try.” Tim paused and shook his head. “He’ll be sixteen next month.”

“Sixteen going on thirty, as John would say.”

“Yeah, I may be crazy, but I trust Danny’s judgment the way I trust any adult’s. He may talk like a kid sometimes, but he doesn’t think like a kid. I’ll tell him to be here tonight.” He looked at Alex. “And I’ll be praying – for Nat, for Patty, for all of you.”

*          *          *          *          *

The next time Nat woke up, it wasn’t so dark. It wasn’t light, really, but kind of dim, like it was very early morning or just before nightfall. He tried to look around to identify where he was – on a floor somewhere, hard, but not concrete, so probably not a basement. He turned his head as far as he could and was able to make out the gridlines of tile. His head still hurt like hell, and moving it made it worse, but he clenched his teeth and did it anyway. He could move a little. His hands were bound at the wrists behind him, and his shoulders ached from the stress. He tapped his hands against the floor and there was no sound of metal, so whoever did this used plastic ties, not handcuffs. His ankles were fastened in the same way, but there was a metal chain looped through the ankle ties that was connected to something he couldn’t see.

If he could just get into a sitting position, maybe he could figure out where he was. He tried to jackknife forward, and he instantly became aware of more pain. _Broken ribs,_ he thought, gasping. Well, shit, that didn’t make it any easier. His head swam dizzily, and he wondered how long he’d been drifting in and out of consciousness. Hours, certainly, because the last he remembered he was on the highway shortly after dark, and now it was dawn, or maybe even the next evening. He was desperately thirsty. He had been in the car, driving back to New Haven from Boston, staying on the Interstate. He had just left two ninety for three ninety-five and was headed south. What time had he left Sybil’s? Seven, seven-thirty, maybe? _Come on, Hale, focus,_ he told himself. _Figure it out._ Say, between eight and eight-thirty when he took the exit onto three ninety-five. Then what? Red and blue flashing lights behind him. He pulled over.

Concentrating made his head hurt worse. What had happened next? He had Ben’s phone. What had he done with the phone? He texted Patty, just in case – well, texted Betsy, but she would know. He remembered being afraid. He knew what was on the phone. He made a quick decision.

When the Greater ordered him out of the car, he “accidentally” dropped the phone, and then stumbled and stepped on it. Dumb move, really. That’s when they started hitting him.

_All right, you can’t just lie here thinking about how bad things are. At least sit up._

He rolled his shoulders painfully a few times to loosen them up and reminded himself of all the sit-ups he’d done in his life. One more.

 _“Fuck!”_ he yelled out loud at the pain, but he did it. He was so dizzy from the movement that his vision went blurry, and the broken ribs made it hard to take more than shallow breaths. He tried to remember what he knew about broken ribs. Not a big deal if they don’t puncture a lung, right? He was just about positive his lungs were okay. He tried to do some sort of an inventory. His head was painful, so he probably got hit on the head. He couldn’t localize it any more than that; his whole head hurt. A broken tooth. Somebody had punched him in the mouth. His shoulders hurt a lot, but how much of that was because of being in one position for hours and how much might be the result of another injury, he couldn’t tell. Broken ribs, both sides. Had he been kicked? As he mentally checked his body, he realized that his jeans were wet and there was a noticeable odor. At some point, he had pissed his pants. Fuck, now he could add humiliation to the physical injuries. He just hoped it had been while he was unconscious, not while whoever had attacked him could see it. The idea that he might have been so scared that he wet his pants like a baby made him angrier than everything else.

 _Okay, move on,_ he reminded himself. It was getting a little lighter in the room, so it was dawn. Good. He looked around again and was able to make out that he was in a narrow space maybe three feet wide. With considerable effort, he got himself in a position where he could lean against one of the walls, which he did gratefully for a few minutes. With his back against it, he could feel it with his fingers, and it was uneven, as if narrow boards had been nailed to it at intervals. He tried to make sense of it, feeling behind him and moving painfully an inch at a time. His fingers hit some sort of metal protrusion, and he suddenly realized that he was sitting against a block of cabinets. He squinted in the dimness and saw the outlines of cabinet doors on the opposite side. He was on a tile floor between two rows of cabinets that faced each other. He was in a fucking _kitchen_.

*          *          *          *          *

Danny came straight from school so he was there by four o’clock. John told him to do his homework while they waited for everybody else to get there, which got him an outraged glare, but Danny opened a book and began writing in a notebook. Gil brought Ben in half an hour later. He looked a little better; Gil had clearly made sure he showered and shaved, and he was wearing Gil’s clean clothes, but he was still pale, and the dark circles under his eyes looked like bruises.

“We’re going to order pizza,” Alex said. “Any requests?”

Ben just shook his head, and Gil reminded Alex that he liked mushrooms. Herc got there before the pizza, and then Angelica and Eliza brought Patty in. She looked like she hadn’t slept either, and Angelica hovered over her protectively. They were all fairly subdued while they ate, and then Alex brought out the new phones.

“Here’s the thing,” he said. “You should continue to use your regular phone for things like texting your parents or looking up movie listings. We don’t want everybody’s phones to suddenly go off the radar because that would be suspicious if we’re being monitored, which I think we should assume we are. The new phones are for any communication among ourselves that has anything to do with the Movement. Really important, don’t use names. Enter phone numbers with icons that will identify a person to you, but not necessarily to anybody else.” He held up his own new phone to show them the contact list. There were a turtle, an artist’s palette, a cake, and a stethoscope with numbers next to them. “Would you know whose numbers these are?” he asked.

“Well, the turtle is John, for sure,” Eliza said, “but you’d have to know John pretty well to know that, so I guess it’s okay. That means the artist’s palette must be Herc, and the cake … Betsy? And I suppose the stethoscope would be Gil.”

“Right on all counts,” Alex told her. “Now, try not to duplicate these if possible, and don’t be obvious.”

“So I shouldn’t use the French flag for Gil, right?” Herc asked.

“Right. Patty, Danny, we have more phones coming in soon, so you’ll get them by the middle of next week.”

“We’ll have them tomorrow, actually,” John corrected him. “I put them on next-day delivery.”

Alex gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks. That will help. I want to talk to all of you guys, though, because we’re going to have to be careful about who gets a phone. Obviously, Patty, Danny, Betsy, and Tim are in, and there are other people who’ve done a lot and will no doubt continue to do a lot, but we have to pay more attention to security. Give me your best recommendation about who needs phones, and who can continue to manage without one.”

“Do we have an official list somewhere of everybody who is working with the Movement?” Eliza asked.

Alex looked nonplussed for a moment. “Oh, my God,” he said. “I don’t think we do – I mean, except for our phone contact lists, and …”

“Yeah, we might need that,” Danny interrupted, rolling his eyes and pulling out the spiral notebook he’d been doing homework in. “I’ll make a master list, alphabetize it, all that cool stuff, and put it in a file that can be stored in your phone under _recipes_ or _class notes_ or however else you want to hide it.”

“Okay, then,” Alex said, trying not to be annoyed. He glared at John, who was laughing. “So all of us here go on the list, obviously, and …”

“Sorry,” Danny broke in again. “Is this list going to be just the New York members, or are we going to include all the units?”

Alex had to stop and think again. John rescued him. “How about if we limit it to the New York people and the ones in charge of the other groups, like Ethan, Tony, TJ, and Frank? Of course, we can always add more if we want, but we’d have that core list for everybody.”

“Yeah, good idea,” Alex agreed. “So who else besides us goes on the New York list?”

“Johan, Deb, Nate …” Eliza said.

“Joe Allicocke, Mark, Johnny Lamb for sure after what he did on Monday,” Herc added.

“What about Kat Livingston?” Angelica asked. “I mean, I know she hasn’t been hanging around, but she’s definitely in agreement with us.”

“Should we include professors?” Alex asked. “Dr. Barron and Dr. Wilson?”

“I don’t think so,” Gil responded. “We should only list the ones who will be working with us. The professors are sympathetic, but if they are taking any action, we’re not a part of it.”

“True,” Alex agreed, “so don’t list the professors. Put Rob Townsend’s name down, though.”

“Really?” Angelica asked. “I think I’ve only seen him once.”

“Right,” Alex told her, “but that’s deliberate. Mostly what Rob does is listen to what other people are saying. He lets me know if he hears anything significant.”

“I think Marty Middicks would want to be on the list,” John commented.

“Marty Middicks is a pain in the ass, and I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him,” Alex retorted.

“You know, though,” Eliza said thoughtfully, “it’s going to happen with more than just Marty Middicks. There are going to be a lot of people who come to realize that voting for Blodman was a disaster, and that King is even worse. Wherever they might have stood two years ago, they have a right to change their minds and want to support us.”

Alex looked around. “Eliza’s right, but how do we know who’s had an honest change of heart and who might be working for King?”

“Marty Middicks isn’t smart enough to be a spy,” Herc snorted.

“I don’t know,” John said. “I don’t trust him, but I don’t think I would trust anybody who wanted to join us now.”

Ben spoke for the first time. “The problem with that, though, is that it guarantees we’ll never succeed in overthrowing King. There just aren’t enough of us. We’ll have to bring in new people.”

Alex shoved his hair off his face. “All right, for now, let’s leave it with just those of us who’ve been in since the beginning. I want to talk with the General or maybe Ethan and Tony about how we evaluate who we let in. Does that sound good?”

There was agreement on that point, and Danny finished making his list. He passed the notebook around so that everyone could add phone numbers, and Alex got the jammers and sniffers to show them all.

“We’ve checked the apartment, and as far as we can tell, it’s not bugged. Still, we’re running a jammer whenever we have a conversation like this.”

“Beats the hell out of Harry Styles at top volume,” John commented.

“Gil, you take one of the sniffers to scan your apartment, and we’ll check Betsy’s tomorrow,” Alex said.

Gil nodded. “And then perhaps I should give it to Angelica or Eliza to scan their dorm room.”

“Yeah, good idea. We’ll do it once a week or so to be sure everything stays secure.”

“What about the church?” Danny asked. “They know we’re sympathizers.”

“Good point,” John said. “I’m ordering more electronics tomorrow. I’ll get some for you and Tim to keep there.”

“Okay," Alex continued, "now that we’ve got secure phones, communication is going to be a million times easier. It could still go wrong, though. Phones can still be hacked. Believe me, I’m learning more and more about that. I don’t know how long these phones will stay secure. That’s why we can’t have any names or identifying information in them. Any questions?”

There weren’t any, and he got up to get another glass of water. They were all aware that Nat’s name hadn’t been mentioned, even though it was foremost in everybody’s mind. Alex sat back down and took a sip of water.

“I talked to Ethan this morning,” he said, looking at Patty. “They’ll have two cars in Auburn tomorrow starting the search, two more on Saturday, and then hopefully by Monday we’ll have something to go on.” He hesitated and bit his lip before he went on. “Ethan tells me that Sybil and her boyfriend Eddie have come up with an idea that he hasn’t yet approved. They want to do something to deliberately provoke an interaction with the Greaters, maybe speed recklessly through the town or cause an accident. Sybil is trying to convince him that if they get inside the Greaters’ headquarters, they might be able to get information. He asked for my opinion, and I have to tell you, I don’t think it’s a very good idea. Still, maybe I’m not seeing the big picture, so I’m throwing it out there so you guys can give me some feedback.”

“It’s really dangerous,” Eliza said. “We could end up with three people missing.”

“That was Ethan’s take on it,” Alex told her. “I understand that Sybil and Eddie want to take some action, but I don’t like this plan.”

“What about if they did something like what Angelica and I did when the Greaters had Patty and Nat in Pennsylvania?” John suggested. “I can get them whatever kinds of IDs they need to be Nat’s brother and sister or whatever.”

“Not brother and sister,” Ben said. His face had brightened a little at the suggestion of a plan. “They met his brother.”

“His fiancée and her brother, maybe?” Patty offered. “I could go …”

“Oh, _hell_ no,” Herc snapped before she could finish, and there was a chorus of objections from around the room.

“There’s no way you’re going, Patty,” Alex told her. “You’re going to stay safe. But it’s not a bad idea to have Sybil and Eddie in the roles of Nat’s fiancée and her brother.”

“I hate just waiting,” Patty said softly.

Angelica put her arm around her shoulders. “I know, Sweetie, but you have to let other people handle this. We’re going to take care of you, and we’re going to take care of your baby, and we’re going to do everything humanly possible to get Nat back to you.”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Alex said to Patty, “but I told Tim your plans and asked if he’d perform the ceremony over Thanksgiving weekend. He’d be happy to do it.”

Patty managed a watery smile. “We were going to go to a judge because we weren’t telling anybody. It’ll be nice to have a church wedding instead.” She turned to Angelica. “If … if everything works out, will you be my maid of honor?”

“You know I will.”

Patty hugged her.

Across the room, John raised his eyes to the picture of the angel on the wall. _Gabriel, if you can do anything,_ he prayed silently, _help us find Nat and bring him home._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has Marty Middicks really changed his position? Who can be trusted? Should Sybil and Eddie try to get into Greater headquarters? Where is Nat being held, and why?  
> Let me know what you think.  
> Thanks to all for reading and following and for kudos and comments.


	46. Tolerance for Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan's team searches for Nat. Sybil and Eddie visit the police station. Angelica and Eliza meet their new sister. The General may have a plan. Nat does his best to stay alive.

Angelica leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. Eliza, beside her, had her headphones in and was listening to an audiobook. At least that’s what she’d said, but Angelica was pretty sure she just didn’t feel like talking. Part of that was because they were both exhausted after the last couple of days; part of it was because she was afraid Angelica would bring up Alex.

They’d taken the train back and forth to Albany countless times, and they were both looking forward to meeting their new baby sister, but this time was different for other reasons as well. There was so much to hide now. Eliza had her sling on, but she would take it off and put it in her bag before they got to their destination. If she was careful, her parents would never know she’d been hurt. They weren’t going to talk about Nat, either, which would be hard, but if they mentioned him, their mom would want to know who he was and how they knew him, and it would all get too complicated. She wondered how much her father knew about the Movement. Quite a bit, she suspected, but he would never find out that his daughters were involved in it. He still thought of them as little girls, and they weren’t going to spoil that illusion for him.

 _It’s funny,_ she thought, _we don’t tell Dad what we’re doing to protect him, and he probably keeps things from us to protect us. I wish we could go back to how it was with President Washington, when we weren’t all scared all the time._

Parents or no parents, she’d be checking in with Patty and Alex a few times a day, and she and Eliza would be returning to New York on Sunday afternoon. By Monday, they hoped Ethan’s squad would have completed their grid search and maybe they’d have some lead on where Nat might be. She couldn’t even imagine what Patty was going through. It was safer not to be in love in times like this. She wished she could convince Eliza of that, but Eliza had had eyes for nobody but Alex Hamilton for over a year now, and that didn’t look like it was going to change. Maybe she should encourage her to go ahead and have a fling with Alex – because undoubtedly Alex would be happy to oblige – and maybe that would get him out of her system. Maybe it would help her to see him more clearly for the ruthless egoist he was.

Oh, who was she kidding? If it weren’t for Eliza, she’d have a fling with Alex herself. She could do it without risking her heart, though, in a way that Eliza couldn’t. It wasn’t a possibility in any case. She’d never do that to her sister. Fuck Alex anyway.

She opened her eyes to check the time and saw that they’d be in the station in about twenty minutes. She nudged Eliza. “Do you want to take your sling off? I’ll get the bag down.”

“Yeah,” Eliza said, pulling her headphones off. She started unfastening the Velcro closings on the sling.

Angelica got her bag from the overhead rack and helped roll the sling up into a small bundle. She zipped it into one of the many pockets in Eliza’s bag, and shoved it back on the rack. “How’s it feel?” she asked.

“It’s okay. Actually, it feels fine now, just sitting still. I won’t move it any more than I have to, and I’ll do everything the physical therapist told me to. I’ll be fine.”

“Be careful holding the baby.”

“Good thing you mentioned that, so I won’t drop her,” Eliza retorted, rolling her eyes, but then she smiled. “Oh, Ange, isn’t it nice that there’s something good in the midst of all the awful things that have been happening?”

“Yeah, it is,” Angelica responded, smiling back. She didn’t tell her sister that she had her doubts about the wisdom of bringing a child into this messed-up world. What kind of life was Katie going to have?

To their surprise, it was Peggy waiting for them at the train station in Catherine’s Mazda. “Oh, my God,” Angelica said, “somebody gave Peggy a driver’s license.”

“Be nice to me or I’ll leave you here,” Peggy told her. “The State of New York thinks I’m a qualified driver, so you have to agree.”

Angelica opened the trunk and put their bags in, making sure Eliza didn’t try to pick anything up. “What does Dad think of you being out on the road?”

“Actually,” Peggy answered, carefully making her way out of the parking lot, “he thinks it’s very helpful because I can run errands for Mom when she’s busy with the baby, like now.”

“I can’t wait to see her,” Eliza said.

“She’s so teeny,” Peggy told them. “Mom and Dad say she looks like me when I was a baby, so I must have been really cute.”

“How’s Mom feeling?” Angelica asked.

“She’s good. Still tired, but I guess that comes with having a new baby, right? Anyway, I try to help. I’m an expert at changing diapers already.”

“Good for you,” Eliza said, smiling. “I wish we could help out too.”

“You can handle all the diapers over the weekend if you want,” Peggy suggested. “I don’t mind, though, honestly. At least when I have kids of my own, I’ll know what to do.”

“Yeah, well, let’s hope that’s a good many years in the future,” Angelica commented.

“Right. Anyway, how are Alex and John doing?”

“They’re fine,” Eliza responded. “Everybody’s busy with classes and stuff.”

“Are they coming up for Christmas again?”

“Maybe, if Mom invites them. We’ll have to see how it goes with the baby and everything.”

“I bet John would love Katie,” Peggy said. “He seems like the kind of guy who would be great with kids. Won’t it be fun at Christmas? I mean, I know Katie is too little to understand anything, but she’ll like the lights and the colors. Do you think John will bake the pies again? Mom loves that he can cook …”

Peggy kept up her cheerful chatter all the way home, and Angelica was relieved not to have to talk about how things were going in New York. Surely word of the riots in the city had reached Albany, but she’d prefer to talk to her father about them before discussing them with Peggy. They pulled into the driveway at the big brick house and stopped at the front door. “Go ahead in,” Peggy said to her sisters. “I’ll put the car in the garage and bring in your bags.”

“Look at our Peggy being all grown up,” Angelica said, but not in a sarcastic way, and then Peggy stuck her tongue out and they all laughed.

It was good to be home. 

*          *          *          *          *

Sybil had dressed conservatively for the visit to Auburn, keeping in mind the _Loving Moms and Dads_ image that King’s government approved. She was using her Isabella Warner ID, and Alex had fortunately chosen the pseudonym Jordan Warner for Eddie, assuming that they would find it convenient if they wanted to work together. Her heart was pounding and her stomach was turning over as they pulled up in front of the Auburn police station and found a place to park.

“Do I look as scared as I feel?” she asked Eddie.

“Probably not, but if you do, that’s okay. Your fiancé is missing. Of course you’re upset.”

Sybil nodded. “I just keep thinking about how Patty must feel. I want to do this for her.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said briefly, his face grim. “Let’s stay focused on that. I can put up with a lot of shit if it means we can get Nat home.”

Sybil let Eddie take the lead inside – more _Loving Moms and Dads_ role playing, and he explained why they were there. The young officer at the desk said politely that he’d see if the sergeant could see them.

An older officer with more gold braid appeared in a few minutes. He introduced himself as Sergeant Farnsworth and suggested that they go to his office. “We can talk freely there,” he told them, his voice kind, but his eyes wary.

“I know that if Nat could, he would have contacted me,” Sybil said. She didn’t have to fake the tears. “He wouldn’t just leave his car on the highway. I think he must have been kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped?” Farnsworth looked startled. “Why would he be kidnapped?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out, sir,” Eddie explained, “but it’s the only thing we can think of that makes sense.” He didn’t mention that they had chosen this to give the Greaters an out if they wanted one. They could “rescue” Nat from kidnappers, and no one would accuse them of misconduct.

Farnsworth seemed to be thinking for a few minutes. Then he leaned forward and spoke to Sybil. “Excuse me for asking, please, but aren’t you very young to be engaged? You’re still in college, right? Your boyfriend wouldn’t be the first young man to get cold feet and take off before the wedding.”

Eddie gripped the arms of his wooden chair to keep himself from punching the sergeant. Sybil wiped her eyes with a tissue and leveled her gaze at Farnsworth. “I don’t think you understand,” she said quietly. “Nat and I have known each other for several years. Our parents very much approve of our relationship. We’re planning to get married as soon as we graduate in June.” She tossed back her red hair and took a breath. “I think too many young people today put off getting married so they can just fool around. Nat and I aren’t like that.”

Eddie admired her acting. He knew perfectly well that Sybil had no objections to fooling around.

“I’m sorry,” Farnsworth said hastily. “I didn’t mean to imply anything …”

“That’s why I know something has happened to Nat,” Sybil went on, “and since he wasn’t found with his car, the only thing that could have happened is that he was kidnapped.”

Farnsworth took a breath. “Can you think of any reason why he might be kidnapped?” he asked. “His family isn’t particularly wealthy, are they?”

“Not rich, no,” Eddie responded, “but they could probably come up with a fair amount of money. They have friends who would help.” Give them another out. If there was a “ransom” demand, it would be met.

“But there’s been no contact about ransom, correct?”

Sybil looked down regretfully. “No. It’s only been a few days, though.”

“Ransom demands are usually made within twenty-four hours,” the sergeant reminded them.

Sybil and Eddie exchanged glances. They had agreed that Eddie would broach the next subject. “There could be other reasons he was kidnapped,” he said tentatively.

“What do you mean?” the sergeant inquired, frowning.

“What about human trafficking? I mean, Nat’s a good-looking guy …”

Farnsworth snorted and eyed Eddie suspiciously. “Let me tell you, son, a tall, strong twenty-year-old isn’t what those kind of people are looking for. They want a skinny little teenager that won’t pose any threat, not some six-foot Thor that can take them down with one punch.” He shook his head. “You’re definitely barking up the wrong tree there.”

Eddie shrugged. It was all he could do not to look at Sybil. No matter what story these Greaters were trying to put out, Sergeant Farnsworth had seen Nat.

*          *          *          *          *

It was light enough to see inside the kitchen now, and it was killing Nat that he was only a few feet away from the sink, but he couldn’t get any water. He could move a few inches at a time, but it was painful and difficult. He still didn’t know what his feet were chained to, but he couldn’t get any purchase to push himself with his feet because of the chain. His shoulders were agonizingly painful now, the right one worse than the left, which made him conclude that there might be an injury of some sort to that shoulder. He kept moving his fingers to keep the circulation going, but it was getting harder. Were they just going to leave him here – wherever _here_ was – to die of thirst?

He sat staring at the cabinet below the sink, wondering if there was a way he could open it and break one of the pipes. Without the use of his hands or feet, it seemed impossible. _All right, then, what?_ he asked himself. _Find out what the chain is hooked to. Maybe get my feet loose._

He stared bleakly down the twelve feet or so to where the chain went off to the left of the line of cabinets, out of his sight. The pain was bad – his head, his shoulders, his ribs. No matter how objectively he tried to assess it, the pain itself was taking over more of his consciousness.

_Fuck that._

Bracing his back against the cabinets, he started pushing himself down the twelve feet of tile floor.

*          *          *          *          *

“Oh, look how cute!” Eliza exclaimed, seeing Katie in her mother’s arms. “Oh, Mom, she’s adorable!”

“I’m glad you think so,” Catherine said, smiling. “Your dad and I agree.”

“Can I hold her?” Angelica asked.

“Of course,” Catherine said, transferring the baby to Angelica’s outstretched arms. “Watch her head.”

“I know, Mom.”

Angelica sat down in the blue chair, examining the face of her tiny sister. “She does look like Peggy’s baby pictures.”

“Told you,” said Peggy, coming into the room. “Your bags are upstairs.”

“Thank you,” Eliza told her. Peggy really seemed much more mature all of a sudden. Maybe it was because she was aware she wasn’t the baby of the family any more.

“I think Katie’s cuter than Peggy was, though,” Angelica said, giving her sixteen-year-old sister a sideways look.

“I knew that was coming,” Peggy responded calmly.

“How are you feeling, Mom?” Eliza asked.

“Surprisingly well,” Catherine said. “Of course I’m tired, and it will be a couple of months at least before Katie is sleeping through the night, but I’m feeling better than I thought I might. Of course, I have plenty of help. Your dad has insisted on a cleaning service, and he signed us up for one of those meal services where they send everything already measured and all we do is throw it in a pan and then onto a plate. They’re really good. And Peggy is a huge help.” She smiled fondly at her. “You know, I had you three close together, so when Peggy was born, Eliza had just turned two, and Angelica was four. For a while there, it seemed like there was no point in any given day when all of you were asleep at the same time. Now I can count on Peggy to take care of the baby for an hour or so every evening so I can get a shower and relax a little. It’s very different from sixteen years ago.”

Peggy shrugged, a little embarrassed. “I like taking care of her.”

 _Peggy’s going to have a whole different relationship with Katie than Angelica and I are,_ Eliza thought. _She’ll be living at home until Katie’s nearly two, so they’ll be close. Maybe she’ll even decide to live at home for college because of it. It’s funny how things that we don’t expect change our lives._ She looked at Angelica holding Katie, who was asleep now. “Can I have a turn?” she asked.

“Not yet,” Angelica said. “You can have her when she wakes up.”

“Fine then,” Eliza retorted, rolling her eyes. “I’m going to go get my knitting stuff so I can work on it.”

“What are you knitting?” Catherine asked. Eliza was the only one of her daughters who seemed to have any interest in crafts.

“Scarves,” Eliza responded as she started up the stairs. “I’m making them for Christmas presents.”

She didn’t tell her mother that her physical therapist, finding out that she knew how to knit, had recommended the activity as a form of gentle exercise for her shoulder and arm. When she got back downstairs, her father had come home so there were more hugs and _How are you? How’s school?_ All the usual questions but nobody talking about what was surely on everybody’s minds, the increasing restrictions from the government and the riots that had broken out in several cities. She knew Angelica would bring it up at some point, so she settled in to knit for a while. Katie was still asleep, and Angelica was making the most of it.

“That’s pretty yarn,” Catherine commented, looking at the soft gray-green wool. “Who’s getting that for Christmas?”

“Alex,” Eliza told her. “He’s always freezing, so he never has enough scarves.”

“I hope Alex and John will be able to come back for Christmas this year,” Catherine said. “They’re such nice boys, and we still have their stockings here.”

“I’m sure they’d love to,” Angelica responded, “as long as they haven’t made other plans.” She sincerely hoped they had in fact made other plans. She would have preferred Catherine to say it would be too much to have them up for Christmas with a new baby, but no, she still wanted them around.

“They’re the easiest house guests we’ve ever had,” Philip remarked. “No trouble at all, and John does half the cooking.”

Angelica glanced over at Eliza. No good pretending her mother hadn’t invited Alex and John now that Eliza had heard it. She couldn’t understand why Eliza kept putting herself in situations where she couldn’t avoid Alex … or maybe she did understand, but she didn’t want to see her sister in pain. She tried to tell herself that they would all have been better off if they’d never met Alex Hamilton, but she didn’t even believe that herself.

Philip announced that he was going to prepare the pre-ordered meal for dinner. “We’re having parmesan-crusted tilapia with basmati rice and broccoli.”

Peggy rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Dad, do any of us know basmati rice from plain old white rice?”

“I doubt it,” he father told her, “but come help me and maybe you can figure it out.”

Peggy sighed, but followed Philip to the kitchen just as Katie began to wiggle and make some baby noises.

“Your turn, Eliza,” Angelica said.

Eliza smiled and put her knitting aside, and Angelica slid the baby into her arms. Katie blinked a couple of times and then scrunched up her little face and let out a wail. Eliza looked up at her mother. “She doesn’t like me.”

“She’s just hungry,” Catherine told her. “Would you like to give her a bottle?”

“Yeah, I would.”

Before Catherine could get up, Peggy came from the kitchen, baby bottle in hand. “I heard Katie saying she was hungry,” she grinned, and handed the bottle to Eliza. She turned and went back to the kitchen. Eliza pushed the bottle nipple into Katie’s open mouth and the wailing turned to contented sucking sounds.

“When did Peggy turn into a competent adult?” Angelica asked her mother. “I mean, over the summer, she was still almost the same as when she was twelve, and now all of a sudden, she’s helping without being asked and acting responsible.”

“Well, she’s sixteen,” Catherine said. “Do you remember being sixteen?”

Angelica pretended to have trouble recalling. “It was so long ago …”

“Oh, hush! There’s a big difference between fifteen and sixteen. I noticed it with both of you. And besides, Peggy is enjoying being the big sister after sixteen years of getting picked on for being the youngest.” Catherine put the last half dozen words in air quotes, and they all laughed.

By the time Katie finished her bottle, Philip called them to dinner, and they all sat around the kitchen table as they had for years, with Katie in her carrier. Over dessert, Angelica brought up the topic of the recent riots a little hesitantly. She didn’t want to trouble her parents, but she was determined to hear her father’s views.

“Was that near Columbia?” Philip asked, frowning. “From what we saw on the news, it was just a small area downtown. In fact, they didn’t even use the word riot. They called it a disturbance.”

“It was pretty near us, actually,” Angelica told him, not sure how much to reveal. “Quite a few people were hurt.”

“We didn’t hear that,” Catherine said, worry creasing her forehead. “Philip, what’s going on with the news? This isn’t the only story that’s been reported incorrectly.”

Her husband shrugged. “The administration always has some influence on the media, you know. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”

Angelica addressed her father directly. “Dad, you worked in government. What do you think of President King and his policies?”

“Well, I’m sure you know that I don’t support him. I voted for Peyton Randolph. I’m hoping the Congressional elections next November bring some real changes, and then in two more years we can vote him out. It’s just a matter of getting through until then.”

“But he’s made so many changes in the laws, and the new Amendments have even changed the Constitution. I’m worried that we’ll never have free elections again.”

Philip reached over and patted his oldest daughter’s hand. “Oh, don’t worry about that, sweetheart. This country has withstood all kinds of Presidents, good and bad, and we’ve always recovered. You just focus on your studies and your college life for now.”

Eliza looked up at that. “You know we’re legally adults now, right, Dad?”

Philip smiled at her. “I know, but you may have to remind me more often. In my mind, you’re four, Angelica’s six, and Peggy is just learning to talk.”

“I don’t think parents ever really see their children as adults,” Catherine put in. “Remember, we knew you much longer as children than we have as adults, so it requires some adjustment.” Her smile seemed the tiniest bit sad. “I’ll tell you honestly, when I found out I was pregnant again after all these years, I wasn’t exactly thrilled, but now I think maybe this surprise baby is the best thing that could have happened, coming along as she did just as my girls are growing up. Katie will be here to keep your dad and me company for a long time yet. We’re pretty lucky.”

*          *          *          *          *

On Monday, Alex, Ethan, Tony, TJ, and Frank had a conference call with General Akhdir. “You’ve all got unlicensed phones now,” he said. “Use them as little as possible. Assume they will be detected fairly soon. Don’t use names. Back up everything on paper. If you get a chance to get spare phones, do it.” His tone changed. “Any news on Nat?” he asked.

“Maybe,” Ethan told him. “Sybil and Eddie went to the Auburn police station as Nat’s fiancée and her brother. They made it clear that if there was a ransom demand, it would be paid. They’re also sure that the sergeant they spoke with has seen Nat. He made a couple of references to Nat’s appearance without realizing it.”

“Son of a bitch,” muttered the General.

“Yes, sir,” Ethan agreed.

“But no ransom demand or any other communication?”

“No, sir. We should have the grid search done by the end of the day today. If we find a likely location, sir, we’re planning on sending in a team.”

The General sighed. “All right. Contact me before you do that, and in any cast, keep me posted.”

On Monday night, Alex shared most of the information with his group, keeping back only the part about the Sergeant having probably seen Nat. He wasn’t at all sure that what Sybil and Eddie had reported was clear evidence that Farnsworth was referring to Nat, and he didn’t want to repeat it for Patty’s sake.

“If they find a place where they think Nat might be, who’s going to be on the team that goes to get him out?” John asked.

“Me, for one,” Alex responded, “even if I have to fight somebody for it.”

Johnny Lamb was still sorting out the various groups in different cities. “Won’t Ethan’s squad be handling it?”

Alex shook his head. “Technically, since the summer, Nat and Ben are attached to our group. Ethan’s squad has been handling the search because the location is near Boston, and they’re familiar with the area, but I think we should be the ones to go get him.”

“I’m going no matter what,” Ben said.

Alex bit his lip. Ben had stayed in New York, telling his professors that he had a family emergency, which wasn’t far from the truth, but he still looked like hell, and Gil had told Alex privately that he wasn’t sleeping. He understood Ben’s desire to be on the team that went to bring Nat home, but he wouldn’t be a good choice. He decided to save the argument for later. “The General wants to talk to us before we go, so maybe he’s got some ideas on that. I’ll be able to tell you more tomorrow.” He waved at Danny. “You want to give your report now?”

“Sure.” Danny stood up with his usual lack of self-consciousness. “I’ve scanned every part of Betsy’s with a sniffer, and it’s not bugged. Wherever information is coming from, it’s not through electronic eavesdropping. That being said, we’re going to use jammers there if we’re talking about anything more sensitive than how much sugar Alex gets in his coffee. Gil’s apartment and Eliza and Angelica’s dorm room also tested clear, but same thing, jammers when there’s any conversation that refers in any way to the Movement, because all the places we just checked could be bugged by tomorrow. I’m taking a sniffer home to scan the church, and if you want any other place checked, just let me know. We’ve also got a few more jammers if you want them. Better safe than sorry, and John’s ordering them by the dozen, I think.”

“Hey, there’s going to come a time when we can’t get this stuff,” John pointed out. “I mean, it’s illegal now, but it’s still available on these dark websites, but that will change. Why do you think I’ve got four printers and shit ton of ink cartridges stowed in the spare room?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Danny agreed. “One more thing, we’ll rescan every place at least once a week, on an irregular schedule. It still looks like somebody overheard something at some time and has informed on this group, but we’ve got nothing to help us identify who it might be. Just be careful where you talk and who’s around.”

“In all seriousness, Alex,” Angelica said, “are we sure that somebody has informed? And if we are sure, do we have any idea at all who it could be? I mean, I trust everybody here, and nobody else knows anything, so I’m having trouble making sense of that whole idea.”

Alex sighed. “Yeah, me too. I’m pretty sure that at least the incident with the van was triggered by some sort of information because of something one of the Greaters said to Nat and then tried to walk back, but I have no idea what information might have been given. Then there was nothing aimed at any of us until now. Nat’s the common denominator, so does he have some enemy somewhere who’s out to get him? I ask myself that, and then I sound like I’m looking for some comic-book nemesis.”

Gil leaned forward. “The reality, though, is that we do have enemies. Everyone who supports King, all members of the Have party, the Greaters, they’re all our enemies. They all want us not to cause them difficulty. All it would take is one of them overhearing one conversation that Nat had, and any one of a few hundred people could have informed on him. It doesn’t have to be personal – he may just be the person they happened to hear.”

“You’re right,” Alex agreed thoughtfully. “It’s much more likely that someone overheard something accidentally than that there’s some vast evil conspiracy going on.”

“Well, other than the government itself,” Danny remarked. “We all know that’s a vast evil conspiracy.”

*          *          *          *          *

Nat had lost all sense of time, but from the brightness of the light coming in from outside, it had to be sometime around mid-day. He estimated that he had gone about six feet. It was getting harder to breathe and his hands were losing feeling. He had stopped to rest and had either passed out or gone to sleep, he wasn’t sure which, but he was awake now. He struggled to get a breath and then started coughing, which was agonizing with the broken ribs. He doubled over, and continued coughing, gasping for breath. When the spasm finally passed, he realized that there were spatters of blood on the floor that hadn’t been there before. He was coughing up blood, and he knew that wasn’t good. Maybe a splinter of bone had damaged a lung after all. It couldn’t be too bad, though, because he was still breathing. It was just that breathing had become such hard work, as if there was a twenty-pound weight sitting on his chest.

Focus.

He was more than halfway to the end of the row of cabinets where the chain went. Maybe it was around a heavy chair or something and he’d be able to get it loose. He was sure he could break a window, even if he had to head-butt it, and then he could get out. He could get back to Patty. His eyes filled with tears and he blinked them away impatiently. Time for crying when this was over, when he could hold Patty, and they could cry together. He pushed himself along for a few more inches and then had to stop to rest again.

He wanted a drink of water more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have tweaked the laws of the state of New York to give Peggy a driver's license. She actually would not have been allowed to have a license for four more months since she turned sixteen in September and it's now November.  
> David Farnsworth enlisted in the Continental Army in Massachusetts and fought at the Battle of Bunker Hill. Some time later, he switched sides and threw in his lot with the British, becoming a spy and counterfeiter in the hope of ruining the American economy. In my story, he's a Greater.  
> Aside from cute little Katie Schuyler, things do not seem to be going well for anyone. What comes next?  
> Much thanks to all of you who leave kudos and comments. I always love to hear what you think.


	47. A Man of Honor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The General directs a Mission to go search for Nat. Alex has to make some important decisions before he, John, Tony, and Jack Sullivan go to Massachusetts. By the time they return to New York, things have changed.

By Tuesday, Ethan had the grid search reviewed and annotated, and he reported the results to General Akhdir, who initiated another conference call that included Alex and Tony.

“Ethan,” the General said, “give Alex and Tony a summary of what your people found. You’ve already sent them the maps, right.”

“Yes, sir,” Ethan responded. “If you guys could get the maps and follow along, it will be clearer.”

Once they all had the maps open on tablets or laptops to refer to, Ethan continued. “You can see that most of the town is pretty dense, with houses and businesses close to each other. We think it’s less likely that Nat is in that area.”

“Before we go any further,” Alex broke in, “do we have any reason to believe that Nat is still alive? I know nobody wants to ask that question, but we have to face reality.” He was alone in the apartment, and he spoke with a frankness that he might not have if John or anyone else was there.

There was a brief pause before the General answered. “Only that his body hasn’t turned up.”

“They had forty-eight hours, and there’s a lot of woods around there,” Alex pointed out.

“I know, and I would say that the odds that he’s alive are probably less than fifty-fifty,” the General admitted. “That being said, it’s worth a try.”

“Why would they keep him alive?” Tony asked.

“Information,” the General replied. “They may be trying to get him to reveal names of others in the Movement – names, locations, activities, anything they can get.”

“It will be hard to get anything out of Nat,” Alex said, remembering the previous time that Nat had been held captive by the Greaters.

“Doesn’t matter,” the General told him. “Everybody will break at some point; we’d never hold it against him. If the Greaters get information from Nat, we’ll deal with it. It happens in every war.”

The General’s level tone did much to keep everyone calm. Alex thought again of the phone that Nat had and what it could reveal, but he didn’t mention it.

Ethan continued his report. “In the southeast part of the town, you’ll see that there are industrial buildings. A couple of them are empty. Those are marked in green on your maps. Still, they’re both close to businesses that are in operation daily, so I’m saying they’re possible, but the most likely place seems to me to be the house a little west of there, off the highway on a heavily wooded lot. It’s also marked in green.”

“Is that a road or a long driveway?” Tony asked.

“It’s a long driveway,” Ethan said. “The house was originally part of a farm with a fair amount of land. Most of the land’s been sold off bit by bit, but the house still sits on a big lot. Right now it’s empty. The most recent owner was an elderly woman, and she passed away a few months ago. Her son has put the house up for sale, but he lives in Chicago, so he’s not going to drop by or anything. But the important thing is that the realtor who’s handling the sale is Elizabeth Loring, whose husband Josh just happens to be the Auburn Chief of Police.”

“Oh, that’s very interesting,” Alex commented.

“Sybil and Eddie didn’t meet Chief Loring,” Ethan went on, “but if anyone in his department is involved, which we know they are, he’d have to be aware of it.”

“What do we know about Joshua Loring?” the General asked.

“According to what we’ve been able to find out, he’s an ardent supporter of King,” Ethan said. “He’s also very ambitious. He doesn’t want to stay in a small town police department. He’d prefer Boston or New York.”

“And bringing in information on the Movement would put him in favor with Commissioner Howe or the Boston commissioner,” Tony concluded.

“Exactly.”

“Okay, so if Nat is still alive, he’s probably in that house, right?” Alex asked.

The General spoke before anyone else could. “Let’s say it’s the most likely location. The empty industrial buildings will also have to be checked. Ethan, I’m not sending any of your people in on this task force ...”

“But, sir,” Ethan interrupted.

“You’ve handled the search and have done an excellent job on it. Two of your people went in and got additional information. You’re going to stand down now unless you’re called on for back-up. I’d like you to have a few people on stand-by when this Mission goes active. Can you do that?”

Ethan didn’t have much choice. “Yes, sir.”

“Alex and Tony,” the General continued, “you’ll each need to send two people. I want you to consider a few things. If you want to go yourself, that’s fine, but please be sure you have someone else in your squad who can take over leading it if you don’t come back. Be sure whoever goes on the Mission is highly skilled and completely reliable. That choice needs to be made by, say, six o’clock this evening. You let me know, review with your people, and then you two coordinate with each other and go in tomorrow night.”

“Who’s in command on the Mission?” Tony asked.

“Are you both going?”

“Yes, sir,” Tony and Alex responded simultaneously.

“Then Tony’s lead on this. No, Alex, don’t argue,” the General continued before Alex could get a word in. “You get the next one.”

Alex could live with it. He and Tony got along well.

“Pick your team, get back to me by noon tomorrow with your plan.”

Alex sat staring at the map for five minutes after the General hung up. He’d take John, of course. There was nobody he relied on more.

Dinner that night was uncharacteristically quiet. Even though John had prepared the casserole with his usual skill, Alex didn’t have much appetite.

“Tony will be in charge,” he said, pushing the potatoes around on his plate with his fork.

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” John responded.

“I don’t know if the General really thinks Nat is alive.”

John looked at him across the table. “Do you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Alex pushed his hair off his face and blew out a breath. “There’s a chance, I guess.”

“Then we need to try.”

“Yeah. I have to talk to Gil.”

John didn’t say anything, just waited.

“The General said we should be sure someone was ready to step up in case we didn’t make it back.”

John did his best to act as if this was a normal conversation. “Gil? Not Angelica?”

“I don’t know …”

“C’mere,” John said, standing up and holding out his hand. He pulled Alex into the living room and onto the couch. “ _Escúchame, mi amor_. You’re in charge. The General put you in charge because he trusts you to make good decisions. You have to decide now whether you think Gil or Angelica would be better at leading this group if you weren’t around. So, tell me.”

Alex chewed on his lip for a minute. “Gil,” he said.

“Why?”

“He’s less likely to piss people off. And Angelica would always put Eliza’s safety before the Mission.”

“Okay, then, it’s done,” John declared. “Do you want any more dinner?”

“I don’t think so. It was good, I’m just not very hungry.”

“I know.” John ran his fingers through Alex’s hair. “I like it long,” he said. He cradled Alex’s head and leaned in to kiss him. There was an instant of resistance before Alex began to respond, and John could feel the tension start to ease out of him. He brushed his lips over Alex’s jaw and onto his neck. “You need to relax, _querido_ ,” he murmured.

“Mm,” Alex said in agreement.

“Can you hold that thought?” John asked.

Alex kept his grip on John’s shoulder. “For how long?”

“Five minutes, just want to put the casserole in the fridge.” John pulled away and went to clear the table.

Alex snickered “You’re turning into a goddam housewife.”

John gave him a grin over his shoulder, batting his eyelashes. “Yeah, but I’m cute, and you love me.”

“So much.”

“Race you to the bed.”

John won, but not by much, and Alex threw himself down next to him, pulling at his clothes.

“You in a hurry, babe?” John asked, cooperating fully in getting rid of his shirt and jeans.

“Yeah,” Alex told him, wrapping his arms around him. “You feel good.” He brought his mouth to John’s, kissing him a little desperately, doing his best to shut out the painful reality of what they would be doing tomorrow. John got his hand on him and teased him, stroking and playing until he had Alex squirming and gasping on the bed. Then he went down on him and started licking long strokes, swirling his tongue around, but not giving him quite enough to get him over the edge.

“Oh, God, John, do it, please, do it,” Alex babbled, twisting under John’s hands and mouth. John finally relented, holding Alex’s hips in place and taking him deep into his mouth, sliding and sucking, and Alex’s moans crescendoed into a shout as he came. John held him tight until he stopped gasping, leaving soft kisses on his neck and his collarbone.

Alex took a long breath and looked into John’s eyes, seeing the iris a thin ring of green-gold around his dilated pupils. He knew John held secrets, knew that there were places in John’s soul that might never be open to him, but he also knew that there was no deceit in the man he loved. Whatever John might leave hidden, he never lied, at least not to him. “I love you,” he whispered, their mouths so close that John felt more than heard the words.

“I love you too,” John told him, and closed the tiny gap to Alex’s lips. Alex reached down and took John in his hand, then slowly and gently made his way from John's mouth to his neck and chest and stomach in a trail of kisses. When he finally got him in his mouth, John took a long, shuddering breath and threw his head back, giving himself up completely to whatever Alex wanted to do. Alex usually brought John to climax as fast as he could, just because he loved to watch it happen, but tonight, he took his time, aware maybe for the first time, that they weren’t guaranteed another night or another day. Soon, though, he heard John’s breathing quicken, and then his hips began to tremble, and he was gasping, “Fuck, oh, fuck, yeah, _fuck!_ ” as he came.

Alex put his arm around him, and John laid his head on Alex’s chest so Alex could play with his curls. “Oh, my beautiful boy,” Alex murmured. What was he thinking, taking John into danger with him? “Maybe you should stay here tomorrow,” he said. “I could take Johan or Mark.”

“Don’t be stupid,” John told him. “I’m way better than either one of them.”

“If anything ever happened to you …”

John put his hand over Alex’s mouth. “Shut up. We both know nobody gets out of this life alive. I’d rather go out trying to help somebody than die alone in bed.”

Alex kissed the hand over his mouth, and gently moved it, holding it tight in his. “Okay, then. I won’t say any more about it.”

“I think tomorrow morning I’m going to take the spare apartment key over to the church so Tim can give it to Danny,” John said casually. “You know, just in case he needs to take over making the IDs.”

“Right,” Alex agreed, keeping his voice level. “Good idea.” He reached over to the bedside table for his phone and texted Gil to meet him at Betsy’s first thing in the morning.

*          *          *          *          *

Gil had found a table in the back with no one else close enough to hear their conversation. Still, they kept their voices down and avoided specific information.

“John and I are heading up north this afternoon,” Alex said. He took a bite of his scone.

“What have you found out?”

Alex gave him a brief summary of what they knew.

“So you, John, Tony, and who else?”

“Another guy from Tony’s squad, Jack Sullivan. I haven’t met him.”

Gil nodded. “I hope you find our friend.” He didn’t look optimistic.

“Yeah, me too.” Alex drank some coffee. “You’re in charge while I’m gone, okay?”

Gil raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “As long as you’re sure.”

“I thought it over.” Alex gave him a reluctant smile. “Listen, Gil, if I don’t come back for whatever reason, will you stay in charge?”

“Yes.” No hesitation.

“All right then. I plan to come back, by the way.”

“Of course.”

“John’s giving Danny a key so he can get the printing and ID stuff if he needs it.”

“Okay. Can Danny handle that on his own?”

Alex shrugged. “He’s not quite as good as John, but he’s damn close. He would be your electronics guy, too.”

Gil nodded and drank some of his coffee. Alex ate some more of his scone, looking past Gil across the room. It was clear that he had something else to say, but Gil waited silently.

After a while, Alex spoke, hesitantly, fumbling for the right words. “If I … you know …”

“Yes?”

Alex finally met Gil’s eyes. “Take care of Eliza. She’d be … upset.”

Gil’s face was filled with compassion. He put his hand on Alex’s. “Of course. _Bon courage, mon frère.”_

*          *          *          *          *

Until a few hours ago, it hadn’t occurred to Nat that he might actually die. Oh, the thought had passed through his mind that they – whoever they were – had left him here to die, but not in any real sense. Now, in the blurry space between consciousness and unconsciousness, he began to come to terms with the likelihood that he’d never see his twenty-first birthday. He wasn’t going to get that Yale diploma after all. Twenty years wasn’t much time on earth. What had he done with it? Not enough …

He had made it another three feet down the row of cabinets, but he had stopped there. He was just too tired. He was still sitting up, leaning against the wooden doors, just trying to keep breathing. He thought he heard something, but he wasn’t sure what was real and what was in his head now. A door slammed shut somewhere, but it was too hard to think about what that meant. Then there were voices.

“Jesus,” one said, “he’s sitting up.”

Something hit him very hard in his broken ribs, and he made a noise. Maybe a scream. He was back to lying on the floor again. After all that work to sit up and try to move, it hadn’t mattered in the end. There were voices, but he was barely aware of what they were saying. The pain was so bad that it had become another presence in the room, and it took all his attention.

“Just tell me,” a voice said. “If you had just told me in the first place, we wouldn’t have had to hurt you so much.”

_What does he want me to tell him?_

“We’re going to open every file in this fucking phone,” the voice continued angrily.

_Oh, right, the phone. Ben’s phone. I smashed it. Have they found a way to get to the files anyway?_

 “Fucking vacation pictures,” the voice muttered.

_They’ve got the photo card. Pictures of Ben and a girl on the beach. I wish I could breathe enough to laugh._

“He can’t hear you,” a different, angrier voice said. “You’re wasting your time.”

_Ben wanted to use it to support the insurrection. Ben and Alex. Ethan, Tony, Frank, TJ, Sybil, Eddie. They’ll still do it. The General will come through. They’ll win in the end._

“There’s got to be something important here, the way he was trying to smash this phone,” the first voice insisted.

_Do you miss people after you’re dead? I’ll miss Patty so much. I won’t get to see the baby. They’ll all help her. She’s got her mom and Betsy and Angelica … I wish I could see the baby._

“You’re going to play all the music too? He wasn’t trying to hide his fucking Spotify,” the angry voice snapped.

“You don’t know what he was trying to get rid of. It could be anything,” the first voice said.

“You really fucked this up, Dave. All I asked you to do was hurt him a little bit to get him to talk, not beat him to death. We could have gotten information out of him. Now we’ve got nothing, and we’ve got a body on our hands.”

“There’s something in this phone,” the other voice said stubbornly. “Here, you look.”

_They don’t know it’s a speech. I wonder what they think they’re looking for._

“Irish folk music? Give me a fucking break.” Something hit the floor next to him.

_That’s where Ben hid it. He said I was the minstrel boy because I sang it for him once. The Minstrel Boy to the war is gone … in the ranks of death you will find him._

*          *          *          *          *

It was cold, even for Massachusetts in November, and Alex was wearing a jacket over a long-sleeved sweater over a shirt, with a knit hat pulled down over his ears and a scarf wound around his neck. No gloves, though, in case he had to use his gun, so his hands were shoved into his pockets, his right hand resting on the gun. He and John had just finished checking the closed factory that Ethan’s people had identified as a possible location where Nat might be held. The building looked like nobody had used it for years; half of the ground-floor windows were broken out and one of the doors was half off its hinges. It had been easy to get inside and take a look around, and a brief inspection had made it clear that no one had been there in some time. There was graffiti on some of the walls and empty beer bottles scattered around, evidence that it might be used by teenagers during warmer weather but now it was deserted, dark and cold.

They met up with Tony and Jack behind another building. They’d brought Alex’s Kia and Jack’s five-year-old Chevy, the vehicles least likely to draw attention and had parked them on different streets. All four of them had keys to both cars so that no matter what happened, they’d be able to get away.

“You see anything?” Tony asked, keeping his voice low even though the area appeared to be deserted.

“Nothing,” Alex responded. “How about you?”

“Plenty of rat shit, but that’s all.”

“These buildings were unlikely anyway, according to Ethan.”

“Right, but we had to check. All right, you know where you’re parking by the house?”

Alex nodded. “Back yard, between the house and the bushes.”

“Lights off once you turn into the driveway,” Tony reminded him.

“I know.”

They separated and went to where they had parked.

“You warm enough, babe?” John asked Alex in the car.

“No, but it doesn’t matter.” He switched off the lights and made the right turn into the long driveway, creeping along at a couple of miles an hour, staying in the lane more by adjusting the wheel when shrubs scraped along the side of the car than by sight. There was only a thin slice of moon in the sky, and it was no help. He made out the house as a dense black block and went around it, parking the car in the back yard. He’d leave tracks, but they had decided that was better than leaving the cars in front of the house, in case anyone came.

They got out of the car and onto the small back porch and heard Jack pull around behind the house. Tony was holding his phone out the passenger-side window with the flashlight app on.

“Wish I’d thought of that,” John muttered.

Tony and Jack joined them on the porch. “You try the door?” Tony asked.

“Waiting for you,” Alex told him.

Tony jiggled the handle and found that the door was, as he expected, locked. “Give me a light,” he said, and Jack held his phone to illuminate the doorknob. “Shit. It’s a deadbolt.”

“So, what does that mean?” Jack asked. “Do we have to knock it down?”

“I’d rather not make that much noise,” Tony said.

“Window?” Alex suggested.

“Yeah.”

Tony scanned the back wall with his flash app. “That’s probably the kitchen right there next to the back door,” he said. He looked farther down the wall. “The small one will be a bathroom, and the other ones are likely bedrooms. Let’s try the kitchen first. The window’s probably over the sink.” He jumped off the porch and stood under the window. The bottom of it was about level with the top of his head. He pulled a metal object out of his pocket. “Alex, you’re the lightest. I’m going to boost you up. You might be able to pull out the screen. If not you can cut it with this, and then use the mallet to break the glass. Just keep your sleeve pulled down over your hand and knock all the glass out before you try to crawl in.”

“What is that thing?” John asked.

“It’s one of those car underwater emergency things. Pretty useful for other situations too. John, you stand over here next to me to spot Alex in case he falls. Jack, you need to look in the other direction because if we’re focused on the window, we won’t see anything coming.”

When they were all in position, Tony stooped down and Alex got on his shoulders, and then John handed him the tool. The screen came out with one good yank, and Alex threw it to the ground, then hit the glass with the mallet. The noise of the glass breaking seemed startlingly loud, but there was nothing but silence around them. Alex tapped on the corners and along the perimeter of the window frame to be sure all the glass was out, then asked John to hand him his phone. He shone the flashlight into the space. “Yeah, kitchen sink,” he said. “I’ll let you guys in the back door.”

Tony gave him a push, and Alex went through the window into the dark kitchen. He panned quickly with his light but didn’t see anything except an ordinary kitchen. He swung himself over the edge of the sink and went to the door.

“I think we’re okay using the flashlights in the house,” Tony told them. “Just keep them low and away from the windows. Alex, you stay here in the kitchen. John, you take the living room and dining room. Jack, you’ve got the bedrooms and bathrooms. I’ll do the basement. Thorough search, guys.”

They separated, and Alex stood still by the door for a minute, feeling desolate. The house was dead silent. Surely if there were anyone alive in it, he’d hear something. _Don’t be an idiot,_ he told himself sternly. _If Nat’s here, he’s bound and gagged, or he would have escaped by now._ The kitchen had a large island opposite the sink, so there was about a three-foot wide passage between the two. He started opening cupboards, shining the light inside them. There was nothing but dust. He was about two thirds of the way down the row, when he noticed something on the floor. He got down on his hands and knees and put his flash on high. The spots were dark, but brownish red, not black. He moved the light and saw more of them, much larger ones a few feet farther on. His stomach turned over. He stood up, leaning on the counter, and called John. John took a quick look at what he’d found and went to get Tony.

“You’re right,” Tony said grimly. “It looks like blood to me. It also can’t have been here very long. If this house is on the market, it’s been cleaned.”

“The bathrooms have been scrubbed recently, for sure,” Jack told them.

“So what do we do?” Alex asked. “I mean, somebody bled in here within the last few days, but what does that tell us?”

“I think it tells us Nat was here,” Tony said. “I suppose it’s possible that someone else was in here and was injured, but with Chief Loring’s wife having the key to this house, it would be quite a coincidence. Besides, if, say, a repairman cut his finger or something, the realtor or homeowner would know about it and make sure it was cleaned up.” He looked again at the spots on the floor. “Hang on a minute.” He got down on his knees and examined the larger areas of blood, then poked at one with his fingertip. “Look,” he said, directing his light at it.

At first, Alex couldn’t see what he meant, but then he saw the thin imprint of Tony’s fingernail in the spot. “It can’t have been more than a few hours,” he whispered, his voice shaking.

Tony nodded grimly. “Anybody have a tissue or a handkerchief or something?”

“There was toilet paper in the bathroom,” Jack volunteered.

“Get me some.” Tony took a small penknife out of his pocket, and when Jack returned with the toilet tissue, he scraped up a sample of the blood, wrapped it in the tissue, and put it in his pocket. Then he did it again, and gave the second sample to Alex. “Insurance,” he said. He stayed on his knees for a couple of minutes longer, looking down, and then he stood up. “We’re going to search everywhere again, double check. Look for anything, no matter how small, no matter how irrelevant it might seem. Trade areas. John, you’ve got the kitchen, Alex, the living room and dining room, Jack, the basement. I’ll do the bedrooms and baths.”

“Is there an attic?” Alex asked, but not with any real hope.

“One of those pull-down ladders in the hall,” Jack said. “There’s nothing there. I checked.”

Alex went into the large, empty dining room where there was nowhere to hide anything, and then into the living room, where there was only a closet near the front door, a coat closet, he supposed. He went into it and shone the light everywhere, even closing the door and examining the back of it, but finding nothing. He had just finished when he heard John call for Tony, and he ran into the kitchen.

John was holding out his hand. “What does this look like to you?”

He was holding a few small, flat pieces of metal, two squares, a long rectangle, and a couple of misshapen scraps, all with tiny specks or marks of some kind on them.

Alex stared at them. “I don’t know. Where were they?” he asked.

“The toe kick, right up against the base of the cabinet.”

“The _what?_ ”

John rephrased it. “Right at the bottom of the cabinet, the recessed part where your toe is if you’re standing close to it.”

Jack and Tony came in, and Tony examined the metal bits, then looked up at John. “You think it’s part of a phone?”

“That was my guess, but I don’t know enough to be sure. I think I might be able to find out, though.”

“Okay, then, you take them back with you, and keep me posted. Do you guys have somebody who can test the blood sample?”

“Yeah,” Alex told him. “Gil can get that done.”

“All right. Will has a friend who’s an EMT; he ought to be able to check it for us.” He looked around. “We’re done here.”

Alex felt his throat tighten. “We didn’t find him.”

Tony shook his head. “No.”

“Do you think maybe they moved him to another place?”

Tony hesitated, then, “No, Alex,” he said softly.

Alex nodded, biting his lip. “That’s what I figured.”

*          *          *          *          *

They got back to New York an hour before dawn. It had been a long, mostly silent drive, Alex uncharacteristically taciturn, John knowing better than to talk to him. As soon as they got into the apartment, though, Alex dropped his guard, and fell into John’s arms, sobbing. John held him, crying with him for a long time, and then after a while he said, “We have to tell Patty.”

Alex nodded. “I know. I’m calling Angelica.”

Angelica came immediately, of course, Eliza with her, and John handed them cups of tea.

“Did you have any sleep at all?” Eliza asked, looking at the dark shadows around Alex’s eyes.

“Not yet.” Alex sat down and told them everything they’d found.

“But he could still …” Eliza started, unwilling to believe the worst.

John was on the floor in front of her, and he turned and took both her hands. “There was a lot of blood,” he said. “And no matter what, we have to tell Patty. She has to be prepared.”

“No, you’re right,” she responded, clinging to his hands, tears running down her face.

“I need to be the one who tells her,” Angelica said softly.

Alex nodded. “That’s what I thought. I’ll go with you if you want.”

Angelica shook her head. “No. Not right away. I don’t know if she’ll want to stay with her mom or come back here or what. I’ll just … whatever she wants, you know?” She started to cry. “Ah, _shit_ , nobody should have to go through this.”

“Do you think we’ll ever know for sure?” Eliza asked. “Know what happened, I mean.”

Alex sighed and looked out the window at the sky, light gray now. “I don’t know. This guy Loring, from what I hear, if he can find a way to use anything to advance himself, he will.” He stopped and rubbed his eyes. “Is Ben still at Gil’s?”

“Yeah,” Angelica said.

“I’ll have to tell him. How can I …?” Alex started crying again, and Angelica got up and put her arms around him.

“We’ll get through this,” she told him. “We’ve all got each other’s backs, remember?”

He nodded, not saying anything.

“I need to go. I want to be there when Patty wakes up, just in case there’s anything on the news. Not that I think there will be, but that would be a hell of a way for her to hear.”

“Yeah, you go,” Alex said, kissing her on the cheek. “Let us know.”

Angelica got her coat and went out the door.

Alex poured himself another cup of tea and gulped it down. “I need to go to Gil’s.”

“You want me to come?” John asked.

“No, Gil’s there, he’s good at being calm. He’ll … I should go. Eliza, do you want me to take you back to the dorm or anything?”

She looked at him uncertainly. “Would it be okay if I stay here? If Angelica brings Patty back, it might be good if I’m here.”

“Of course it’s okay,” Alex told her. He gave her a hug and a soft kiss on the lips before he left, as if he’d forgotten he wasn’t going to do that again.

John watched him go out the door, and then he sat on the couch next to Eliza and put his arm around her. “That’s the way Alex is, you know. Don’t be mad at him. It’s been a bad night.”

Eliza leaned in and cried on John’s shoulder. “I couldn’t be mad at him today. We’re lucky to be alive.”

John held her and stroked her long hair, and wondered briefly why it didn’t feel the least bit strange, but he was so tired the thought slipped away from him. After a few minutes, Eliza pulled back a little, and brushed John’s curls off his tear-stained face. “You should sleep,” she said.

He nodded. “Yeah, maybe I can get a couple of hours. It’s not going to be an easy day.”

“Go to bed,” she told him. “I’ll wake you up if anything happens, I promise.”

“You going to be okay here?”

“Sure, I’ve always got something to read on my phone. Go.”

John gave her a faint smile and kissed her on the cheek, and then she was alone. She tucked her feet up under her and opened her phone to the book she was reading, but for a long time she stared at the screen without seeing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's sad. I'm sorry, but we're not done with the sad yet. Things may even get sadder before they get better, but they do, eventually, get better.  
> In reality, Nathan Hale died at the age of 21, hanged as a spy by the British.  
> The song "The Minstrel Boy," if you aren't familiar with it, is indeed a lovely one, an elegy for a poet/singer who dies in war. There are many versions on YouTube if you want to look for it, but my favorite is one from Star Trek TNG, of all things, where Chief O'Brien sings it. At the end of the song, his companion says, "I'm not going to win this one, am I, Chief?" and Chief O'Brien says sadly, "No, sir." I thought of that as I wrote this, knowing Nat wasn't going to win this one, no matter how brave he was.  
> Joshua Loring was born in Boston, but was a Loyalist who took the side of the British. He came to some sort of "arrangement" with British General Sir William Howe (NYC Police Commissioner Howe in this story) whereby Howe got the use of Loring's glamorous wife Elizabeth, and Joshua Loring got cushy positions in the local government. It was the subject of much talk at the time, as you can imagine. Francis Hopkinson, who makes a very brief appearance in Provoke Outrage, wrote quite a clever song about the whole thing called "Battle of the Kegs." The Lorings are going to cause trouble for our squad.  
> I hope you're still willing to keep reading, despite the sad parts. Thanks so much to all of you who are still here, and thank you always for kudos and comments. Comments are very welcome, even if you want to yell at me.


	48. The Cost of the Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone deals with Nat's death in their own way. A public lie reveals something.

Eliza had been sitting on John’s couch for about an hour when Angelica texted briefly: _Staying with Patty. She’s devastated._

She started crying again, and got up to make more tea. How did people get through this? How could you be young and in love, about to get married and expecting a baby, and have it all torn apart? How was Patty ever going to be okay?

She carried the cup of tea into the other room and sat at the table, wondering if she should try to go to her Principles of Representative Government class in an hour. The class was getting to be a joke, since King’s government had destroyed so many of the principles that were supposed to be taught in the class, and the professor seemed afraid to open her mouth. Mostly she assigned reading and essays to do now, and Eliza missed the class discussions that they had previously had. A lot of the students had stopped attending class regularly. They got the assignments from the professor’s website, and nobody said anything in class.

She wondered what her parents would say if they knew how little was actually being taught now. The best professors, like Dr. Barron, had either already left or were about to, and everybody was afraid to talk about anything. It wasn’t as bad in other majors as it was in pre-law or poli sci. According to John and Herc, the art department was functioning more or less normally, except for the ridiculous tracking that was going on, trying to push female students out of graphic arts and male students out of textile design. Gil’s pre-med classes hadn’t changed either, but she was beginning to feel that even if she got straight A’s in every class, she still wouldn’t know much about the law.

She abandoned the idea of going to class and turned her thoughts back to Patty. She wanted to do something to help, but she couldn’t come up with a single idea that would be useful. She wondered how Ben was; there’d been no word from Alex. John had left his phone on the counter, and it had been silent. She walked around restlessly, made more tea, then sat down and tried to read again, but all she could focus on was Nat. _We’ve been lucky,_ she thought _, Angelica and Peggy and I. We’ve never really lost anybody._ They’d never known their father’s parents, and their maternal grandparents had died when they were too young to comprehend what it meant. For the first time, she thought about what it must have been like for Catherine and Philip to lose their parents when they were not much older than she was now. She had taken it for granted that she would have her parents for decades yet, and that her friends would all grow old with her. Now she realized that none of that was guaranteed, or maybe even likely. Of course she realized that other people had died in Tim’s church, and in the riots and demonstrations that were regularly taking place in city after city now, but with none of them personally known to her, the impact had been minor. This was different. This was Nat, who made them laugh, who sang songs to his girlfriend, who fought with Alex over the last piece of pizza. This was her friend.

When John woke up after a few hours of sleep, he found her getting ready to make herself a peanut butter sandwich in the kitchen.

“Hey,” he said, and held out his arms. She dropped the knife and put her arms around his waist and her head on his shoulder and stayed there for a few minutes, grateful for his warmth and solidity.

She pulled back and asked, “Do you want a sandwich?”

He gave a faint smile and shook his head. “Peanut butter? No thanks. I was going to scramble some eggs. Do you want some?”

“Yeah, thanks. I’d rather have that than peanut butter, actually.”

He looked around for a hair tie and found one in the towel drawer. “Good thing I can cook,” he said, pulling his hair back into a pony tail.

“I can scramble eggs,” Eliza told him. “Even Peggy can scramble eggs.”

He didn’t argue. “Leave the bread out so we can make toast. Did Alex call?”

“No. Angelica texted that she’s staying with Patty, but that was hours ago. I’ve just been … waiting, I guess.”

John broke the eggs into a bowl and mixed them with a fork. “I don’t think there’s much else we can do.”

“John, how do … how do people get through it? I know … I’m sorry if I shouldn’t ask, but I know you lost your mom, and if I even think about something happening to my mom, I get upset. How do you deal with it?”

John put some butter in the frying pan, keeping his eyes on the stove. When he spoke, his voice was restrained. “I wasn’t very close with my mom, so it wasn’t the same. Alex, though … he still misses his mom, but I think what keeps him going is knowing she’d be proud of him. She wanted so much for him to get a good education and to stand up for what’s right.”

“And that’s what he’s doing.”

“Yeah.” John poured the eggs into the sizzling butter. “Can you make the toast?”

A few minutes later they sat down at the table and ate what was going to count as lunch for the day. John pulled the hair tie out and shook his curls loose. “Can’t have my hair in my face when I’m cooking,” he said, “but I don’t like it pulled back.”

Eliza smiled. “Everybody loves your curls, John.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. He finished his last bite of toast and stretched. “I’m going to get a shower and take some things over to the church. I’ve been thinking …” He stopped.

“What?” she asked.

“Danny should have a printer and some of the other things I use, just in case, you know.”

Her eyes filled with tears, and she reached across the table. “John …”

He took her hand, but his voice was steady. “Nat won’t be the last. We have to deal with reality if we’re going to fight this battle.”

She sniffed and swallowed hard. “Okay. I know you’re right, but I’m scared.”

His hand tightened on hers. “We’re all scared. I’m scared all the time, I swear, but being scared doesn’t mean we stop.”

“You’re really scared? You’re not just saying that?”

“Jesus, Eliza, you think I’m superhuman or something? Damn right I’m scared.” He stopped and took a breath, looking away from her. When he spoke again, his voice was gentle. “If I stopped doing things every time I was scared, do you think I’d be in New York? Do you think I’d be with Alex? Some days going into the street with a gun isn’t the thing that scares me most.”

She held on to his hand as tightly as she could. “John Laurens, you are the most amazing person I’ve ever …”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he interrupted. “How about if you load the dishwasher while I get a shower?”

It took John two trips to the garage to get the printer, special papers, and various inks into the car. He took them out in plain cardboard boxes with some old tee shirts thrown in on top of them. “I get stopped, I’m on my way to donate old clothes to the Salvation Army,” he said.

He had just taken the second load out when her phone sounded. It was Angelica again. _Patty wants me to stay, so I’ll probably be here all day. You ok?_

She texted back. _I’m good. I’m here if you need anything. Please let me know if I can do anything._

Angelica replied, _Not yet, but she’ll need a lot of help. I’ll talk to you about it later._

She had just put her phone down when John came back to get his coat. “You want me to drop you anywhere?” he asked. “You want to go back to the dorm?”

She shook her head. “Angelica just texted again. She’s going to stay at Patty’s all day. If I go back to the dorm, I’ll have to deal with a lot of people that I can’t really talk to, and I don’t think I could handle it right now. And I’ve already given up on going to class today.”

“I think we all have. I kind of expect everybody will be here tonight just to talk, so you might as well stay. Oh, and if Alex comes in and he’s hungry, there’s some leftover casserole. And if he says he’s not hungry, ask him what he ate. If he can’t remember, he probably didn’t eat, so give him some of the casserole. If he says he had candy bars or cookies or something like that, at least make him drink some hot tea with milk and no sugar.”

“Who takes care of you, John?” she asked.

“Alex.” He saw her face and smiled. “No, he does, really. I’m just better at things like remembering to eat and drink.” He kissed her cheek lightly. “I’ll probably be gone for a couple of hours. I want to be sure everything gets set up and then go over it with Danny.”

After he left, the apartment seemed strangely bleak, as if John’s personality was what kept it warm. She went back to trying to read, but she was cold and went into the bedroom in search of a blanket. There was a soft blue one hanging over the end of the bed, so she wrapped it around herself and was scrolling her phone to find where she had left off when Alex came in.

“Hey,” he said, a little surprised to see her still there. “Where’s John?”

“He took some stuff over to Danny.”

Alex nodded. He knew what she meant.

“How’s Ben?” she asked.

He didn’t answer for a few minutes, taking off his gloves and shoving them into his pockets, hanging his jacket and scarf over the back of a chair, giving it all his full attention. Finally he turned and faced her. “Not good.”

“Is Gil with him?”

Alex shook his head. “Ben is on his way to see Nat’s parents.”

“Oh, God. Oh, of course he would do that. Is he alone?”

“No, Herc’s with him.” Alex’s voice was rough. “I wanted to go …”

“Alex, you’re exhausted.”

“You don’t have to tell me that!” He ran his hand over his face and pushed back his hair. “Oh, shit, Eliza, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean … Gil sent me home.”

“Have you had anything to eat?” she asked, remembering John’s orders.

“I don’t know,” he said, sinking down on the couch next to her and pulling on the blanket. “I’m cold.”

“I’m going to heat up some of the casserole for you.”

“No, I don’t want that,” Alex grumbled, sounding like a child. “Aren’t there any cookies?”

“I’m sure there aren’t. How about if I make you some tea?”

He nodded. “Yeah, that would be good.”

She got up to go into the kitchen, noticing that as soon as she moved, Alex grabbed the blanket and cocooned himself in it. She made tea for both of them and some toast for Alex, sprinkling it with a little cinnamon.

“This is good,” he said. “I like cinnamon.”

They were still on the couch, and Eliza tried to get enough of the blanket to cover her feet. “My toes are cold.”

Alex sighed noisily, but let her have a corner. He finished his tea in silence, and put the mug on the floor. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

“You should get some sleep,” Eliza told him gently.

“I can’t,” he said, turning to her. “I keep thinking …” His face was shadowed with sorrow, his dark eyes enormous. He stared at her, and then he put his arm around her and pulled her close. “Please let me hold you,” he pleaded, “just for a little while.”

She didn’t resist. Nat was gone forever. John was at Danny’s, fixing things so that Danny could take over if John died. _Nat won’t be the last,_ John had said. It could be Alex. It could be her. She reached up and put her hand on his cheek. “Alex …”

He bent to kiss her, and the thought flashed through her mind that she had been right. If she gave in to this, she would go up in flames. She kissed him back with everything she felt, and let the fire burn. She twisted one hand in his hair, and with the other pulled at his shirt, trying to get under it. When she finally touched his skin, she gasped as if it scorched her, and he stood up, keeping his arms around her and his mouth on hers, and somehow they got into the bedroom, stripping off their clothes as fast as they could. She threw her shirt on the floor, and then her jeans and her underwear. She didn’t want a long, slow, romantic tease. She just wanted him, all of him, right now. She lay down on the bed and pulled him to her. He was touching her everywhere, stoking the flames, and murmuring, “My God, my God, my God” like a prayer. He had his thumbs on her nipples and his tongue in her mouth, and she was wrapping her legs around him trying to hold him closer. He moved away for a minute, reaching past her, and she tried to pull him back, but he muttered, “Condom,” and grabbed one out of the nightstand drawer.

He was over her, the condom on, panting, his hand between her legs, and his eyes met hers. “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” she said, “yes,” and as he pushed in, “yes, yes, _yes._ ” She tilted her hips up toward him, and he went deeper, his thumb on her clit. She tightened around him, her body reacting on its own, her arousal so powerful that she was already on the edge. Alex moved, and she went higher and higher, saying his name over and over until the tremors started, and she arched up toward him. The orgasm shot through her, deep and intense, and she began to wail, gulping breaths as the spasms went on and on. Alex kept thrusting into her, bringing his body tight against hers as he finished. As her breathing steadied, she realized there were tears on her face, and she didn’t even know why. Alex pulled away gently, disposed of the condom, then wrapped his arms and legs around her as if he never wanted to let her go.

“My God, Eliza,” he whispered.

She put her hand on his cheek and found that his face was wet with tears like hers. “Why are we crying?” she asked him.

“I don’t know.” He kissed the tears on her cheeks and stroked her hair. “Because it was amazing, maybe, or because it scares us. Because we know we’re not safe. Because we don’t know if there’s going to be a future.” He kissed her mouth, softly, gently, his hand cradling her head. “Oh, Eliza, my beautiful girl, please don’t say you won’t let me love you.”

*          *          *          *          *

By the time John came home, Alex was sound asleep, and Eliza was back on the couch, wrapped in the blue blanket, trying her hardest to come to terms with what they had done. She’d never thought she’d be that girl, the one who went willingly to bed with somebody else’s boyfriend. Worse than that, really, because their cheating betrayed one of her closest friends, a man she loved dearly.

But she loved Alex. She hadn’t doubted that for more than a year. Now Alex said he loved her too, but that he also loved John, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make sense of that.

When John opened the door, she kept her face as expressionless as she could. He smiled and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. She felt as if there was a scarlet letter on her forehead, but John didn’t seem to notice anything.

“Alex asleep?” he asked, hanging up his jacket.

“Yeah,” she responded. “He was really tired.”

“Did you get him to eat anything?”

“Toast,” she said. “He didn’t want anything else.”

“Sometimes you have to just tell Alex to do something whether he wants to or not,” John told her.

“I’m not good at that.”

John smiled. “Can’t stand up to him, can you?”

To her horror, Eliza felt the blush spread up her throat and onto her face. She ducked her head quickly and confessed, “I’m not much like Angelica.”

There was a very brief silence, and then John said lightly, “Well, that’s good, because I’m scared of Angelica.”

She looked at him, wondering what he might surmise, but she couldn’t bear to tell him. She changed the subject. “Ben went to see Nat’s parents.”

John nodded. “I thought he would. Who’s with him?”

“Herc.”

“Is Angelica still at Patty’s?”

“Yeah. She said she’d be there all day, but I think she’ll be here tonight. I didn’t ask whether Herc was going to stay with Ben or come back on his own. I don’t know what anybody’s doing.” Her eyes filled with tears again. She was so tired of crying. “I just want everything to be normal. I just wanted to go to college and then law school and have a life, you know? I never wanted to end up fighting a revolution.”

John sat down next to her. “Then why are you doing it?”

She had expected him to say something comforting, not challenging. “What do you mean?” she asked, annoyed.

“Why are you involved with the Movement? You don’t have to be. Look at what’s-her-name, your old roommate Sylvia. She’s just going to classes and having what you could call a normal college life. You could do that.”

“No, I couldn’t. You know I couldn’t. I could never ignore what King has done, the way he’s divided people into different classes and blamed all the problems on the poor or immigrants. I couldn’t possibly …” She broke off and glared at him. “What are you smiling at?”

“You just told me why you can’t have the kind of college life you thought you were going to have back when you were in high school.”

She thought about it. “Oh. Okay, yeah, you’re right. We all feel the same way. We have to do this.” She sighed. “Do you think we’ll get back to normal life?”

“I don’t know,” John said. He put his arm around her and pulled her closer. “I wish I could say yes, but there are so many things wrong, and there aren’t many of us, so – I hope so. I know we won’t give up.”

She put her head on his shoulder. How could she do that, she wondered, but John was still John, and being with him still made things better. He began playing with her hair, running his fingers through it. It was soothing, and she snuggled in a little closer, loving him and needing him and feeling like a traitor, all at the same time.

“John …” she began hesitantly.

He reached up with his free hand and put a gentle finger on her lips. “Sh,” he told her. “Everything’s okay.”

*          *          *          *          *

Angelica looked like she’d been crying all day. She hugged Eliza and held on, as if she could draw strength from her. Gil arrived about half an hour after Alex woke up, and then Danny a few minutes later.

“I’m ordering pizza,” John announced. “Anybody else coming?”

“Betsy’s at Patty’s, so Deb and Johnny are at the coffee shop,” Angelica said.

“Where’s Mark?” Alex asked.

Angelica shrugged. “He wasn’t scheduled to work today. Betsy texted him to call her, but he hadn’t by the time I left. She said he probably thought she wanted him to work extra hours so he wouldn’t call back till after closing.”

“So just us, then, unless Herc comes back,” John said.

“He wasn’t sure what he was going to do,” Alex told them. “Ben might stay with Nat’s family, or he might go to his parents. They only live about twenty miles away. Actually, Ben wasn’t in any frame of mind to make plans, and Herc said he’d just stay with him as long as he needed to. Anyway, we’re the only ones who need to be here.”

Gil frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

Alex smiled faintly. “Inner circle, outer circle.”

“What?”

“Something Crazy Tony said once. The ones in the inner circle are the ones you know you trust. The ones in the outer circle are the ones you think you trust. The inner circle stays small – the people in this room, Herc, Tim, Betsy ...”

“Nat and Ben,” John added.

“Nat’s gone,” Alex said mercilessly, “and Ben … I don’t know how Ben’s going to be. Right now he blames himself.”

“But that’s crazy,” Eliza protested.

“Yeah, I know. I get it, though. We all could have done things differently. The General puts protocols in place for a reason, and I ignored that too. Nat just did what I did, only I was lucky and he wasn’t.”

Eliza’s blood ran cold at the thought that it could have been Alex instead of Nat. Life or death could be just a matter of luck, of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“And everybody else is in the outer circle?” Angelica asked. “Mark, Johan, Deb, Joe?”

“I think I can trust them,” Alex said. “I have trusted them, and they’ve given me no reason not to, but I can’t be as sure of them as I am of you. I just can’t.”

Angelica nodded. “Yeah. I trust Eliza more than I trust any of you. I always will. I trust all of you, but not in the way I trust her.”

“We all have personal circles too, I guess,” Alex said, “but what Tony and I were talking about was the possibility of someone who worked with us laying information against Nat or Patty in Pennsylvania. I still think it’s unlikely, but Tony reminded me that if it was true, I wouldn’t know.”

“That’s cold,” Angelica said.

“Yeah, but also correct. If you suspect somebody, you make sure they don’t have information.”

The arrival of the pizza interrupted the conversation, and as John and Eliza handed out the plates, Alex turned on the TV news. They all knew the stories were slanted in King’s favor, but Alex tried to watch it at least once a day, hopeful that he could see what King’s next move might be. There was an aspirin commercial, and then it went back to the Barbie and Ken co-anchors. They had their serious faces on.

“It is a sad day in our society when a young man of great promise is drawn into a lifestyle of evil and betrayal,” Ken pronounced.

“Uh-oh, somebody’s gay again,” John laughed. His laugh was choked off, though, when Nat’s picture appeared on the screen.

“What the _fuck?_ ” Alex yelled, jumping up so fast his plate fell to the floor. Nobody even noticed.

“Nathan Hale,” Barbie was saying, “graduated from Coventry High School three years ago, and was attending Yale University.”

The picture of Nat faded from the screen to be replaced by a video of Yale’s leafy campus in the summer sunshine. Smiling, attractive young people threw Frisbees and sipped coffee. The only audio was music.

Ken picked up the narration. “Somehow, somewhere, young Nathan Hale was drawn in to the seditionist organization that is sometimes referred to as the Movement.”

“Jesus fucking _Christ!_ ” Alex yelled, picking up a bottle of water, which was the object nearest to his hand. John grabbed it before he could hurl it at the TV.

The screen now showed a tearful young woman, blond and blue-eyed like Nat. “We didn’t know what was happening to him,” she sobbed. A brunette Barbie next to her spoke into a microphone with the station’s call letters emblazoned on it. “Nathan Hale’s sister Caroline is devastated by his self-destructive path,” she said.

“Nat doesn’t have a sister,” Gil said.

“What?” Angelica asked.

“No, just one brother. Believe me, I know, I was with Ben for two days, there’s nothing I don’t know about Nat’s family at this point.”

“Then who the fuck is that _puta?_ ” Alex demanded.

“Probably exactly that,” John responded, “getting paid for her services.”

Caroline – or whatever her name was – continued her sad and entirely false story. “My parents were so worried, but they just couldn’t get through to him. It was almost as if he had joined a cult.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Angelica snapped.

The recital went on, but the ending was even worse than they expected. The blond Barbie anchor spoke in her most melodramatic voice. “Two days ago, this story came to a tragic, but not wholly unexpected end. Nathan Hale was apprehended as he and a gang of Deplo accomplices attempted to set explosive devices in a preschool that is attended by children of several prosperous Have families in Auburn, Massachusetts. The devices were on timers and could have been triggered while children were in the building. Fortunately, an alert passerby contacted police, who surrounded the building. The criminals were armed, and a firefight ensued, in which Hale and the four Deplos were fatally injured.”

Ken brought it all to a conclusion. “Nathan Hale’s family are Hopes,” he said, “good, hard-working people. For reasons we will never understand, their son abandoned the values he had been raised with and turned against his country and against them.” He looked straight into the camera. “Parents, even if your children are college age, monitor what they are doing and who they are with. This could be your child.”

 _“Patty!”_ Angelica gasped suddenly, and grabbed for her phone to call Betsy and make sure Patty didn’t see this, at least not without being warned. Alex was already calling Herc, and Danny was texting Tim. Eliza was crying on John’s shoulder. John looked over her head at Gil, who had a strange expression on his face. John frowned questioningly.

Gil held up his finger in a _wait a minute_ gesture and gave everybody time to finish their calls and calm down a little. Alex picked up his fallen plate and the pizza that had been on it, and conscientiously cleaned a spot of tomato sauce off the carpet. Danny, sitting on the floor as usual, leaned against the couch looking thoughtful. He searched a couple of things on his phone and then he said, “They put it all together with public domain shit.”

“What?” Alex asked irritably.

“The picture of Nat was his high school yearbook picture. The Yale video is from the recruitment section of their website. The picture of the preschool at the end is actually of a preschool in Ohio, not in Auburn, Massachusetts. They are so fucking stupid.”

John gave him a raised eyebrow, and Danny heaved an elaborate sigh. “ _Freaking,_ okay? They are so freaking stupid.”

“I’m sorry, but I still don’t understand,” Eliza said. “What are you saying?”

“First,” Danny began, “they put it together really fast. They just grabbed stuff off the net and threw it on the screen. Second, it shows that they didn’t really intend to kill Nat; if they had, they would have had a better cover story worked out in advance. Third, they were panicky.”

Gil was smiling at Danny. “Yes,” he said, nodding. “Do you know what that means?”

Danny stood up and smiled back. “They’re afraid of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nathan Hale actually had five sisters, as well as seven brothers. His mother died at the age of forty when Nathan was around 12; his father outlived him by 26 years. Needless to say, I have ignored almost all of these facts, but one of his brothers was William, who went by Billey (I updated the spelling).  
> I kept Patty off stage in this chapter to give other people some time to do things, but she is not forgotten, and you will see her soon.  
> Do you think Danny is right? Is the Movement starting to scare King's government?  
> Thank you for reading, and thanks so much for kudos and comments. I love hearing from you.


	49. Rely on Angelica

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patty grieves for Nat. Herc and Ben go to Auburn with a lawyer. Danny recovers some files from the broken phone. Alex plans a rally for truth. Danny lies to Marty Middicks. John and Gil discuss money and relationships.

By the next morning, everybody on campus was talking about the news story. Nat had been in New York often enough that a lot of people recognized him. Some even claimed to know him.

Angelica had gone back to Patty’s early in the morning and talked to her mother before Patty got up.

“Why would they do that?” Frances Manning kept asking. “Nat was a good, kind person. I know he was involved in the Movement. I know all of you are, Patty too. I wish you weren’t, but you do what you think is right.” She wiped her eyes. “I don’t know what Patty’s going to do now. It used to be a single mother could get some help, but the government has cut all of those programs. I want to help her, Angelica, but before Patty started working, I was barely making enough to support the two of us. Now – I don’t see how we’ll manage.”

“We’ll help her, Fran, I promise. Patty has friends.”

Fran nodded. “I know. Are you going to stay with her again today? I have to go to work. We only get bereavement leave for immediate family, and because Nat and Patty weren’t married yet, my boss said she’ll dock my pay if I take another day off.”

“That’s terrible!”

“I know. I don’t want to leave her here, but I can’t afford to lose the time.”

“Don’t worry.” Angelica shook her head as soon as the words were out of her mouth. “I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to say. Of course you’ll worry, but I promise you, Patty won’t be alone. I’ll be here, or if I have to leave, my sister will, or John or somebody. We’ll take care of her.”

Fran gave her a hug and shortly afterward left for work.

When Angelica heard Patty get up, she made tea and put it on the table with the scones that Betsy had brought over. They hadn’t been able to get Patty to eat more than a couple of bites yesterday. Maybe her favorite orange scones would tempt her appetite a little.

Patty came into the kitchen in her pajamas, her face pale, her eyes red and puffy. She put her arms around Angelica. “Thank you for coming back,” she said.

“I’m here as long as you need me.”

Patty clung to her, and Angelica could feel her breathing as she tried to hold back the sobs. She stroked her back, wishing she knew what to say, wishing she could come up with something that would help. “I made tea.” It was the best she could do.

Patty nodded against her shoulder, and Angelica nudged her into a chair. The kitchen was tiny, with only a round bistro-style table and two chairs in the kitchen. They were by the small window, and on a different day, Patty might have made the usual joke that if you leaned far to the right and squinted, you could see part of a tree. Nat had always laughed at that. He’d lean almost far enough to fall out of his chair, and say, “I think I saw a leaf!”

New York City versus Connecticut. He teased her about being afraid of trees. The tears ran down her face.

*          *          *          *          *

Danny texted John early in the morning. _I think I can recover the file. Can I come over?_

John texted back. _Come at around noon. I can’t cut this class again._

At noon, Danny showed up with the scraps of metal John had found on the floor in Auburn, his phone, his laptop, and what looked to John like random cables. He spread them out on the table and then asked, “Have you got anything to eat?”

Two plates of macaroni and cheese later, Danny was able to explain what he had found. He put the broken pieces in front of them. “Okay, look,” he said, “most of this is just trash, a piece of the case, whatever, but this …” He pointed to the square piece. “This is a piece of the memory. It looks to me as if the phone was crushed, or at least partly crushed. I went over all of this with a magnifier, and there was some debris, just tiny amounts, but it looked like dirt or sand. There were also some fragments of glass and plastic. Just a guess, but maybe the phone was on the ground and somebody stepped on it. Would have had to step on it pretty hard, though.”

John’s face went still. “Nat would have done that. He would have tried to destroy the phone rather than let the Greaters get it.”

Danny kept his eyes focused on the table. “Mother-fuckers.”

John put his hand on Danny’s back. “Yeah. We knew that. Nat knew it.”

Danny nodded and took a breath. “Anyway, I cleaned this up the best I could. It’s damaged, but not destroyed, so I put it in a working phone and then connected it to my computer.”

John nodded. That sort of made sense.

“I transferred the files to the computer to work on them. A lot of it was Ben’s contact list, some notes, that sort of thing, some of it decipherable, some of it not, you know what I mean?”

“Mostly. I’ll stop you if I don’t understand.”

“Okay, there were also some audio files. Music, mostly, but a couple of recorded class lectures, and then a file that was labeled ‘The Minstrel Boy,’ which is a song, but it wasn’t a music file.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll play it for you. It’s kind of rough, and there are a few places where it cuts out, but I think maybe somebody who’s better at this than I am could recover more. Anyway, listen to this and tell me who it sounds like to you.”

John listened, frowning. It was a single voice speaking, unclear in parts, and skipping in others. _“… changes will occur within … of the inauguration, probably less. Believe me, if … any Constitutional way that we could prevent the events that we fear may take place, we would … only actions we could … violate the Constitution, and we can’t … Constitution will be at risk of being destroyed”_

John’s jaw dropped. “It’s President Washington,” he gasped. “That’s President Washington’s voice. What the hell is this?”

*          *          *          *          *

Herc called Alex. “You’ve seen that shit on the news right?”

“Yeah, we saw it.”

“Well, New Haven’s up in arms. The whole college is out in the street marching in support of Nat and his family.”

“Okay, I’m on it,” Alex said. “We’ll get something going here. Can you call Ethan and Tony, pass the word.”

“For sure.”

“How’s Ben?”

Herc hesitated. “About as you’d expect, maybe a little worse. When he saw the news last night, I thought he’d lose his mind.”

“It was bad. We can’t let King and his corrupt government slander a good man like Nat.”

“Right. That’s what they’re saying here. They’re using the hashtag Man Of Honor. I don’t know who’s directing the protests at the moment, but things are happening. Listen, though, Alex … you know Nat’s father’s really sick, right?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s worse. The doctor put him on hospice care two days ago.”

“Ah, shit. _Shit._ ”

“Ben feels like he needs to take care of the family.”

“I’m not surprised. Where is he now?”

“Hopefully, asleep. We’re at his parents’ place. We got here late last night. His mom finally made him eat something and go to bed. She’s the only one he’ll listen to.”

“Well, that’s something, I guess.”

“We’re going back to see Nat’s parents today. The fucking Greaters in Auburn are giving them a hard time about releasing Nat’s body. Said they have to come up there personally to sign the paperwork. Mrs. Hale explained about her husband, said she can’t leave him. She asked if Billy could go, but he’s only seventeen. It’s ridiculous. They’re just being obstructive because they can be. It’s killing me to see what it’s doing to this family.”

“God, what kind of bastards would do something like that?”

“Anyway, Mrs. Hale asked if they could send Ben, as, you know, a friend of the family. He’s over eighteen. They were ‘looking into it’ and said they’d get back to her today.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?”

“I don’t know,” Herc told him. “Last night, Ben’s dad called a lawyer he knows. We’re hoping he can get something done. If Ben goes up to Auburn, I’m going with him.”

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

“I’m all right. I mean, nobody’s really okay at the moment, but I’m in better shape than Ben. Listen, can you ask John to load some more money on the card I have? If we go to Auburn today I might need it.”

“Sure, actually, I can do that, and I will as soon as I get off the phone.” Alex stopped and took a breath. “Listen, Herc, don’t forget to eat and sleep.”

Herc snorted. “You’re a fine one to remind me. Don’t worry, I’ll manage.”

“Do me a favor, Herc – call in every few hours just to update, would you? I know we have to be careful about using the phones, but …”

“Yeah, I will. I’ll use other phones if I can, but I’ll contact you again around two, so if you get an unknown number then, answer it.”

“Tell Nat’s family how sorry we all are,” Alex said, his voice not quite steady.

“I already did.”

Alex went to the computer and transferred five hundred dollars to Herc’s card. The bank account was in the name of James Hawthorne, the card said Simon Wilson, and Danny had set up a complicated back-channel connection, so it wouldn’t be traceable. He texted John, Gil, and Eliza to meet him at Betsy’s at one. With Angelica staying by Patty’s side and Herc in Connecticut, the four of them were going to have to do all the planning. If they got going this afternoon, they could have a demonstration in support of Nat tomorrow.

He managed to get to a class and grab a sandwich, which he ate while talking to Tony. He wanted to coordinate their demonstrations as much as possible so that they could send a clear message refuting the lies that were being told about Nat. Tony had already spoken with TJ and Frank, and the plan was for a demonstration to begin at ten o’clock the following morning. When he got to Betsy’s, he wasn’t entirely surprised to see Danny sitting with John.

“You cutting school again?” he asked, not even trying to look mad.

“Just the afternoon. Two classes, big deal. Anyway, I have a dentist appointment.”

“Really?”

“No, but that’s what the note will say.”

Alex looked at John. “I don’t suppose you wrote him an excuse in Tim’s handwriting, did you?”

“Absolutely not,” John declared. “I didn’t have to. He does Tim’s handwriting better than I do.”

“Anyway, Tim knows,” Danny defended himself. “I don’t lie to him.”

Alex’s face softened a little at that. “What did he say?”

“I’m not sure if he was talking to me or if he was praying. He just kept saying, ‘Lord, give me strength.’” Danny turned to John. “Didn’t you say we were going to have cupcakes?”

“I’ll get them,” Alex said. “Have you heard from Eliza or Gil?”

“Both on their way,” John told him, “coming from classes in different buildings.”

Alex brought back two chocolate cupcakes, a blueberry muffin, and two scones and handed Danny one of the cupcakes.

“It should have more icing,” Danny commented after the first bite.

“You know those shipping and commodity disruptions that are going on, making it hard to get things like copy paper?” Alex asked.

“Yeah.”

“Same thing with sugar.”

“I know. I’m not saying I don’t know why, just expressing an opinion.”

“Lord, give me strength,” Alex muttered.

Gil got there next and helped himself to a scone. Eliza was the last one to arrive. She thanked Alex for the muffin, and then seemed to be very busy arranging her jacket and scarf over an empty chair.

Alex got another cup of coffee and told them what he’d heard from Herc. “I’ve talked to Tony and he’s getting things organized there. I think we should be good to go at ten o’clock tomorrow. Can we get the word out?”

“I don’t see why not,” John responded. “I’ve got enough paper that we can print a few dozen notices.”

“What about that red paper?” Danny asked.

“Oh, yeah, great idea,” John agreed. “We’ll use that. Colored paper’s almost impossible to find now. It’ll get attention.”

“Should we ask where you got it?” Alex inquired.

Danny and John looked at each other, and then Danny said, “No.”

“Okay, then,” Alex went on, “if you can get those printed in the next hour or so, we can get them up around campus. Spread the word in every way you can. Even if Nat wasn’t personally known to a lot of people around here, everyone should realize how disgusting it is that his name is being dragged through the mud like this.”

“How about if I print half the notices on red and print the other half with a picture of Nat?” John suggested. “I’ve got a few pictures of him from making IDs, and that way, anybody who saw him around will know who we’re talking about, even if they didn’t know his name.”

“Yeah, that’s a great idea. Oh, and be sure to use the hashtag Herc mentioned, Man Of Honor.”

There was a brief silence, and then Eliza, her eyes bright with tears, murmured, “He was, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Alex responded. “Maybe more than we’ll ever know.”

John and Danny exchanged looks again. John leaned over closer to Alex and said, “We need to go to the conference room.”

Alex looked around. There were customers at most of the tables. “Okay, Gil and Eliza, you leave first. Go around back and in through the back door. We’ll wait a few minutes and follow you.”

Ten minutes later, they had regrouped in the conference room. John said, “Danny took those broken phone pieces I found and cleaned them up. He found some stuff that you need to know about.”

Danny explained again what he had done and then played the file for them. Gil and Eliza, like John, recognized President Washington’s voice immediately. Alex put his face in his hands.

“Did you know?” John asked him.

“Yeah,” Alex nodded, his voice tight. “It’s the speech President Washington gave us on the last day of the internship.”

“How was it on Nat’s phone?” Danny asked.

“It’s Ben’s phone. Nat broke his, so he had Ben’s. Ben recorded it … nobody knew except Nat, Tony, and me. And Angelica now, because I told her last week.”

“Nat knew, though?” Gil asked.

“Yeah.” Alex got up and got a napkin off the counter, blew his nose.

“Danny thinks the phone might have been stepped on, hard,” John said quietly. “On a road, maybe, based on the debris he found.”

Gil’s face had that focused look that they all knew well. “Nat tried to destroy the phone.”

Alex sat down again. “Probably.”

“Is that …” Eliza’s voice was shaking. She looked directly at Alex. “Do you think that’s why they … kept him there? Because they … they saw him trying to destroy the phone?”

“Yeah.”

 _“Bastards!”_ Eliza sobbed. “How could they …”

John put his arm around her and she turned her head to his shoulder.

Gil’s voice was as cold and clear as ice. “He could have given them the phone.”

“Yes,” Alex said. He took a breath. “They might have killed him anyway.”

“Or maybe not,” Gil pointed out.

“There’s no way to …”

“But he wouldn’t have, even if he knew it would save his life. We all know that.”

Danny stopped trying to be tough and let the tears spill over. “Because of what we’re putting on the posters. Because he was a man of honor.”

*          *          *          *          *

Angelica spent most of the morning talking to Patty about the claims that King’s government was making about Nat. At first, she’d been bewildered. “But I don’t understand. Why would they say that? Do they have him mixed up with somebody else?”

Angelica had to explain several times before Patty could take it in; even then, she kept asking why.

“I don’t know for sure, but Gil thinks that King is beginning to be concerned about us, about people who stand up to him. He wants us to look bad, and they’re using Nat as an example. I know it’s horrible, honey …”

Patty had clung to her and cried some more, but after a while, she seemed calmer. “I’m going to get a shower and get dressed,” she announced firmly, “and I want to call Ben.”

Angelica wasn’t sure how to get in touch with Ben, so while Patty was in the shower, she called Alex.

“Ben doesn’t have a phone at the moment,” Alex told her, “but we can contact him through Herc. Actually, I just talked to Herc. They’re on their way to Auburn with Mr. Tallmadge’s lawyer friend to see if the Greaters will release Nat’s body to Ben. Herc said the lawyer had Mr. and Mrs. Hale sign a ton of forms giving Ben the authority, but, you never know what the Greaters might do. Nat’s parents want to …” Alex’s voice shook a little “… bury their son.”

“I think Patty will want to be there,” Angelica said.

“We’ll make sure she can get there. I’d like to go too, but I’ll have more information when I talk to Herc again.”

Patty came back into the kitchen fully dressed, her hair neatly tied back. “I want to go to Betsy’s,” she said.

“Are you sure?” Angelica asked.

“Yes. I want to see Betsy, and thank her and everybody there.” She hesitated and bit her lip. “And I have to see about going back to work. “I need to start trying to save money.”

Angelica put her arms around her. “You know we’ll all help out, right?”

“I know, Ange, but I have to be able to support my child. Mom can’t do anything more than she’s already doing, and I can’t expect my friends to sign on for the next eighteen years.”

“We will, absolutely …”

“And I appreciate it, but I need to do this.”

Angelica texted Alex, who said they were still in the conference room, so they went through the back. It was the first time any of them had seen Patty since Nat’s death, and everyone’s emotions overflowed. After a few minutes of tearful hugs, Patty sat down on the couch, Angelica next to her.

“Can I get you something?” Eliza asked. “Do you want some tea?”

“In a few minutes, maybe,” Patty said. “I’m going to go out and talk to Betsy and whoever else is working, but I want to thank all of you … I don’t know what I would have done without you. Alex and John, I know you went up to Massachusetts to look for Nat. I know that was dangerous, and I really appreciate you being willing to do it. Can you tell the other guys who went thank you for me?”

“Of course,” Alex replied, “but …”

Patty held her hand up. “No, just let me get through this. I don’t know when Nat’s funeral is going to be, but I want to go.” Despite her determination, her voice broke. “I’ve never even met his parents …” She stopped for a few minutes, then went on. “Whenever it is, I want to be there, and I don’t have a car, so …”

She had to stop again, as literally everyone in the room assured her that she would have transportation to Connecticut. She got a pack of tissues out of her purse and wiped her eyes. “Thank you. I mean, I knew I could count on you, but I just wanted to ask. The other thing is, I need to get back to work soon. My mom doesn’t make much money, and I’ll need to save every penny I can.”

“When’s the baby due, Patty?” John asked gently.

“Around the middle of May, according to the doctor.”

“Well, then, we’re all available to babysit all summer. And even next fall, we can arrange our classes so that somebody is always free while you’re working.”

“John, that’s a great idea,” Angelica declared. “I’ll bet if we get organized, we can make sure you don’t need to pay for daycare until the baby’s ready for kindergarten.”

“And by then, for sure, we will have had free elections and you’ll be able to count on things like medical insurance again,” Alex added.

They had to wait for Patty to stop crying again. “I love you all so much. I was really worried about having to leave a newborn baby with a sitter that I couldn’t really afford and go back to work, but now that I know it will be one of you, it’s such a huge relief. I know you’ll take care of my baby.”

“I think we’re probably going to be fighting over who gets the baby first,” Alex smiled.

“No, we won’t, because that will be me,” Angelica told him.

“She’s right,” Patty said, and even managed a bit of a smile.

 _Such a small thing,_ Gil thought, _a few hours of babysitting a week._ _No expectant mother should be stressed over finding good care for her child. I need to talk to John._

“Who’s working with Betsy now?” Patty asked.

“Mark and Johnny,” Eliza said, “and Deb will be coming in at three.”

“I’m going to go out and say hi.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Angelica asked.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind. I can’t trust myself not to fall apart yet.” She followed Angelica out the door.

Eliza put her face in her hands. “Oh, my God, that poor girl.”

“We’ll make sure she’s okay,” John reminded her.

“I know. I mean, I know we’ll all help her, but we can’t make things right for her because no matter what we do, Nat is still gone.”

*          *          *          *          *

John and Danny had the notices printed by late afternoon. Half of them were on white paper with _Don’t Believe the Lies! Rally for Truth, Friday 10:00 a.m., College Walk_ above Nat’s picture and _Nathan Hale #ManOfHonor_ below it. The rest were bright red with the same words, but instead of the picture a center block with _Nobody’s free unless we’re all free!_ John emailed his templates to Ethan and Tony, and they passed them on so that there would be consistency from one city to another. Everybody took a handful and hung them on and off campus in as many places as they could. Alex was tacking one to a utility pole on the street when Marty Middicks approached him.

“Hey,” Marty said, looking at the picture, “isn’t that one of the guys who stayed in your room a while back?”

“Yeah.” Alex moved on to the next pole, Marty dogging his footsteps.

“What’s the rally about, then?”

Alex whirled around to face him. “Nat’s dead. The Greaters killed him and then told lies about him.”

“Jesus,” Marty snapped, “you don’t have to get in my face about it. I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

Alex took a step back, but retorted, “Anybody who supports King had something to do with it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Everything okay, Alex?” Danny asked, suddenly materializing at Alex’s side.

Marty looked Danny up and down and snorted. “Who’s this, your kid brother?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Danny told him before Alex could get a word in. “So?”

Marty wasn’t sure if he was being played, so he responded lamely, “You don’t look alike.”

“We’re both adopted,” Danny explained helpfully. He turned to Alex, who had his hand over his face and was mumbling, “Lord, give me strength.” “So, uh, big bro, you okay to put up the rest of those notices, or should I take some?”

Alex handed him a half dozen papers.

Danny looked at Marty critically. “You’ll be at the rally, right?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. I mean, I thought you were asking Alex about the details. You don’t support the Greaters lying about an honorable man, do you?”

“No, of course not.”

“Okay, then, we’ll see you at ten.”

“I don’t want any trouble with any of your friends.”

Danny gave him a pitying look. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on you.”

Marty walked off, not sure whether to be angry, and Alex leaned his forehead against the pole.

“You’re my brother?” he asked incredulously.

“I was improvising.”

“Big bro? You seriously called me big bro?”

“Come on, Alex, I had to think on my feet. I thought you were going to punch the guy.”

“I wasn’t. You know who I might punch, though, you obnoxious brat?”

“Not me,” Danny told him cheerfully, “because John would be mad. That reminds me, it must be close to dinner time.”

*          *          *          *          *

John and Gil were having one of their Trust-Fund Baby meetings at the apartment while Alex and Danny were out hanging posters.

“We should set up a trust,” Gil said. “Patty could get a monthly or quarterly disbursement, at least enough for her and the baby to live on.”

John nodded. “Can we do that legally if we’re not related to her?”

Gil smiled. “Not in this country, but we can set up the trust in France, and Julien can transfer the money into her account periodically. That’s exactly how my trust works, except it’s a lawyer who makes the transfers.”

“You think Julien will be okay with it?”

“Absolutely. I’ve already called him. He thinks that this country has fallen into barbarism.”

“Fallen into barbarism?” John asked.

Gil shrugged. “It doesn’t sound so strange in French.”

“How much do you think?”

“I’m not sure, because we have to calculate over a long period. Next week, though, I will be spending Thanksgiving with Monsieur and Madame Gérard, and Madame Gérard studied economics. She will be able to advise me. We have time, since the baby will not come until May.”

“Are we going to tell Patty?”

“I don’t know. Not yet, at least. I think maybe we will tell her as soon as it is all set up, though, because stress is not good for a pregnant woman.”

John grinned at him. “Good thing you know about pregnant women since you’re planning on five or six kids, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“Is that why Deb dumped you?”

“How did you …”

John waved his hand at him. “None of my business. I just notice things sometimes.”

“It was not so much a dumping as it was a parting of ways by mutual consent,” Gil told him in a dignified voice.

“Mm-hm,” John said, getting out the ground beef for tacos.

Gil opened the cupboard and took out a bottle of wine. He opened it and poured himself a glass. “Do you want some?” he asked John.

“Maybe with dinner.”

Gil sipped the wine and looked over John’s shoulder at the window. “It was a mutual parting of ways because now she is dating Johnny Lamb,” he said.

“Oh, shit.”

Gil took another swallow of wine and shrugged. _“C’est la vie.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you think the Rally for Truth will go? Has Marty Middicks really changed his ways? Is Danny's mouth going to get him into serious trouble at some point?  
> And when will there be more about the Alex-John/Alex-Eliza relationship?  
> What does Patty's future look like?  
> All of these questions -- and so many more! -- will be answered in time.  
> Thanks always for kudos and comments. I love hearing from you nice people!


	50. Violence on Our Shore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex makes a decision about the recording. Patty insists on marching with the others. Herc deals with a number of things in Massachusetts and Connecticut. The march doesn't go as planned. Police Commissioner Howe makes an announcement.

“We have to get those phone parts to TJ,” Alex said over a plate of tacos. “His tech genius might be able to recover the rest of the file. I think there’s probably enough on there that it could be evidence against King, but of course it would be better if the file was complete.”

“Are you going to check with Ben on that?” John asked. “After all, it was his phone, and he’s the one who made the recording.”

“I don’t know,” Alex admitted. “Ben is already blaming himself for Nat’s death because he didn’t go with him. Do we want to tell him that Nat probably died because he tried to keep the recording away from the Greaters? Does Ben need to know that?”

“What benefit would there be to Ben knowing?” Gil asked.

They all thought about it. “None that I can see,” Alex said.

“What if, at some time in the future, TJ produces this recording, like if King goes on trial for war crimes or something?” Danny inquired.

“You could tell him we didn’t know,” John suggested. “Just say I found the smashed phone parts in the kitchen where Nat had been held and sent them to TJ because he’s got the tech genius.”

“You would not actually have to say that we didn’t know,” Gil pointed out, “just not disclose that Danny recovered most of the file. We’re the only ones who know.”

“Eliza and Angelica,” Alex reminded him.

“Surely you can trust them.”

Alex nodded. “Yeah, I just – you know, I hate to deceive Ben.”

Gil looked at him in exasperation, “Alex, everything we do is based on need-to-know. Can you think of any reason why Ben needs to know this?”

“No, I can’t, really. It won’t help anything, and it would cause Ben even more grief.”

“Then the decision is made,” Gil told him. “Now, the practical question is how do we get the phone parts safely to TJ?”

Alex bit his lip. “Damn, it’s a seven-hour drive to Norfolk.”

“So, that’s a weekend,” John said. “Drive down Saturday, hand the stuff to TJ, drive back. If we leave early in the morning, we don’t even have to stay overnight.”

“We should do it soon. I don’t like the atmosphere for travel.”

“Tomorrow’s the march. Let’s go Saturday and come right back. Not staying the night limits our exposure.”

John was right. “Okay,” Alex agreed. “We go at around seven Saturday morning, hand off to TJ, turn around and come back.”

“You have a location for TJ?”

“No, but I can text him to meet me at the diner where we met before. That’s in Richmond, which is actually a little closer than Norfolk. I’ll do that now to be sure he can meet us.” He typed _927 meet 836 14h00 732_ _183 urgent_ and sent it.

“Who’s going?” Gil asked.

“John and me,” Alex told him, “so you’re …”

Gil nodded. _“D’accord._ Do you want to tell Angelica and Eliza?”

Alex hesitated. “I suppose I’d better. I’d hate for them not to be able to find us and get worried. I’ll text Angelica as soon as I hear back from TJ.”

“How come I can’t go?” Danny demanded, annoyed.

“Because you need to spend the weekend making up to Tim for being such a pain,” Alex said.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Danny broke in, ignoring Alex, “Tim’s coming for the march tomorrow, so I’ll be here too.”

“Are you even going to graduate high school?” Alex inquired.

Danny’s face was suddenly serious. “I hope so, but maybe not on schedule. Are you guys really sure you’re going to finish college on time? I know you all missed a lot of classes this week, but you had to because of Nat. Angelica’s missed all her classes to be with Patty. It would be insane to say that getting to every class is more important than what we’re doing.” He shrugged. “I should graduate in two years, but if I don’t, I’ll graduate as soon as I can. Free elections and the rule of law come first.”

John looked at Alex with a faint smile. “Every time he pisses you off, he reminds you that he’s secretly an adult.”

Alex sighed. “Did he tell you he claimed to be my brother this afternoon?”

John laughed. “No, but I’m not surprised. Any particular reason why?”

“I was intervening to prevent Alex from punching some jackass,” Danny responded.

“Marty Middicks,” Alex explained, “and I had no intention of punching him.”

“What did he want?” Gil asked.

“He was asking about the rally. Danny intimidated him into saying he’d be there.”

“I also promised I’d protect him from you guys,” Danny reminded him.

“Lord, give me strength,” Alex said, rolling his eyes.

“Why do people always say that …” Danny began, but John punched him in the shoulder.

“Am I driving you home or are you taking the bus?”

“I guess you’re driving me.”

“Fine then, get your shit together so we can go. Are you and Tim taking the bus in the morning?”

“Yeah. Should we come here first?”

“Be here by nine-thirty.”

As Danny picked up his jacket, Alex’s phone sounded. He opened it to read the one-word text from TJ: _confirmed._ He looked at John and said, “We’re going to Virginia on Saturday.”

John shrugged. “One thing at a time. I need to take the brat home now.”

Danny had been standing gazing silently at the angel picture. He flipped John off without a word, then put on his jacket and followed him out the door.

Twenty minutes later, driving across town, he asked casually, “John, you don’t think anything is going to get out of hand tomorrow, do you?”

“You mean like the Times Square thing?”

“Yeah – or worse.”

John knew better than to try to fob Danny off with a glib response. “I hope not.”

Danny stared straight ahead. “It could have been any of us, couldn’t it?”

“Yeah, it could, but Nat was alone and in the wrong place at the wrong time. That won’t happen often, but – well, nothing is promised, you know?”

John pulled the car into the alley behind the church, where the entrance to the living space was. Danny didn’t open the door right away. He turned to John and said, “No matter what, I’m glad I’m doing this. I just – I want you to know that, so that no matter what happens, you can tell everybody that I’m sure I made the right choice.”

John reached over and put his hand on Danny’s shoulder. “Odds are, we’ll survive this, but if not, I’ll remember.”

Danny grabbed his hand for a second, then jumped out of the car and yelled, “See you tomorrow,” as he opened the back door.

After he was inside, John leaned his head against the steering wheel and took deep breaths to hold off the tears.

*          *          *          *          *

By nine-thirty, Alex was on his fourth cup of coffee. He was leaning on the kitchen counter and frowning. Patty had come, prepared to march, and he was adamantly opposed to the idea. She was pale, with dark purple shadows around her eyes, and she looked exhausted. He had said as much to her, and she hadn’t argued, just shrugged.

“I need to be here,” she said. “It’s more important for me to do this than it is for any of you. You should understand that.”

“I do,” Alex told her. “I do, really, but it could get crazy out there. There’s no way to guarantee that you’ll be safe.”

“I know.”

Alex pushed his hair off his face. “It’s barely been a week. You need to rest.”

“I can’t rest, Alex. I can’t sleep. Maybe if I walk a few miles, I’ll get tired enough to do something besides lie awake and cry all night. I’m going back to work on Monday because I have to make money to take care of my baby. Someday he’s going to ask me what I did when his daddy died, and I want to be able to say something other than ‘I cried.’”

Angelica came up behind her. “Eliza and I will be with her,” she said. “You know you’re not going to stop her, so you might as well give up.”

“Okay, you’re right,” Alex conceded, throwing up his hands. “Just, be careful. Please.”

“I’ve got this,” Angelica told him. She took Patty to get a cup of tea.

Alex looked up to see Gil in front of him. “I don’t suppose I can ask you to keep an eye on Patty during the march, right?”

“Correct,” Gil said. “I have … laid out my own route, which may not coincide with the official plan.”

“Will John be with you?”

“No, but I don’t think he’ll be marching with you either. Angelica will be with Patty. She’ll be all right.”

Alex was about to argue, but his phone sounded. It was Herc, sounding stressed. “We accomplished our errand in Auburn,” he said. They had been able to get Nat’s body released. “The … uh … observance will be 123 at 427. Request is private, for good reason.” _Funeral will be on Monday in New Haven._

“I don’t understand.”

“I know, but I can’t explain now.”

“Completely private? What about 643?” _Patty._

“Only 643 and 927. No one else. Said with many apologies.” Patty’s code and his, so Herc was telling him he could drive Patty to New Haven for Nat’s funeral, but no one else could come. There was some reason that Nat’s friends were being told they couldn’t attend the funeral.

“Okay, confirmed. We’re about to go out so I may not talk to you again before 123.”

“I understand.” Herc hung up and Alex stared at his phone, frowning.

“What is it?” Gil asked.

“It was Herc. There are some things …” He stopped and thought for a minute. “Everybody will be back here after the march, right?”

“I’m sure.”

“All right. We’ll talk about it then.”

Gil nodded. “We should get going.”

College Walk, a broad pedestrian passage through the campus, was already crowded when they got there. Alex had expected a much smaller turnout. It was Friday before Thanksgiving break, so most students would be headed home later today or tomorrow. It was gratifying that this many had showed up. Only a few here at Columbia had actually met Nat, but everyone who knew him even slightly had liked him. Word had gotten around, and they were ready to defend his good name.

Alex told Angelica to keep Patty in the center of the crowd; it was those on the periphery who would be most likely to have to deal with any physical attacks. He wasn’t sure if he could expect that or not. The Greaters were inconsistent, sometimes ignoring a demonstration, sometimes showing up in huge numbers. He wasn’t sure if that was by design, to keep the Movement on its toes, or by chance because the Greaters weren’t really very well organized. He didn’t see any police presence yet, but he expected they would be there at some point. He looked around and saw Johan Livingston and Mark Willett, as well as Deb Sampson and Johnny Lamb. He did a double take when he saw that Deb and Johnny were holding hands, but he didn’t take the time to make inquiries. Nate Pendleton and Joe Allicocke were somewhere in the crowd too. He wondered if Marty Middicks would actually join them, and wasn’t sure if he hoped so or not.

He had reluctantly decided to carry a gun this morning. It was in his shoulder holster under his jacket. Armed confrontation wasn’t something he wanted to provoke or even take part in, but he was realistic enough to acknowledge that it was at least a possibility. He knew without asking that Gil and John were armed, and there was a good chance that some of the others would be too. Maybe Gil was right and they should carry guns all the time. Maybe it would save some lives. The thought crossed his mind that they should all have some actual firearms training that went farther than target practice, but he wouldn’t know where to begin. He was wondering who he could talk to about it when he saw Tim and Danny joining the crowd, and he mentally shelved the idea for later.

“Thanks for coming, Rev,” he said.

“Terrible thing, Alex,” Tim responded, shaking his head. “Is there anything I can do for the family or for Patty?”

“Ben and Herc are with Nat’s family in Connecticut, and something’s going on, but I don’t know what. The funeral’s on Monday, but for whatever reason, they want to keep it private. I’ll drive Patty to New Haven, but they specified that we were the only ones who should go. I’ll know more about their situation when I get back, but you know Nat’s dad is really sick, right?”

Tim nodded. “Danny’s been keeping me in the loop.”

“So … prayers, you know. Probably nothing else you can do for him.”

“And Patty?”

“She’s had Angelica with her just about every minute,” Alex told him, “and that’s helped, but she’s got a rough road ahead of her. She’s going back to work on Monday because she needs the money. Her mom doesn’t make much so finances are going to be really tight. We’ve all offered to babysit, though, so she may be able to get away without paying for daycare for the first couple of years.”

Tim smiled. “That’s one of the best things you could have done. It eases her mind as well as her pocketbook to know that her baby will be taken care of by people she trusts.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Alex shrugged, looking away. “It doesn’t seem like much.”

Tim put his hand on Alex’s shoulder. “That’s because you think it’s your responsibility to fix everything.”

Alex gave him a faint smile and gestured toward where Patty was standing next to Angelica. “She’s over there if you want to talk to her.”

“I do. I’ll see you here and there today, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, come over for dinner. It’ll probably be pizza, but we’re all meeting back at the apartment. You can even bring Danny.”

Danny just rolled his eyes. “I’ll catch up with you later, Rev,” he said. “I’m supposed to meet John.”

Tim went to talk to Patty, and Danny took off to wherever he and John had decided, and Alex stood alone for a minute, the crowd swirling around him. How much of the apprehension he felt was because, as Tim said, he felt it was his responsibility to fix everything, and how much was because the mood of the country was changing, becoming angrier and more volatile?

*          *          *          *          *

Mr. Chauncy, the lawyer, had had the foresight to bring his SUV; ordinary protocol would have been for the Greaters in Auburn to release Nat’s body to a funeral home designated by his family, but ordinary protocols no longer applied. Captain Joshua Loring of the Auburn Police Department had looked at the carefully-prepared legal paperwork, shrugged, and led them into a garage behind the station, where a zipped plastic body bag lay on a makeshift plywood table. Before Herc could stop him, Ben unzipped the bag and immediately vomited all over the floor. Charles Chauncy and Billy pulled him away, and Herc zipped the bag back up. He knew that the brief glimpse he had caught of Nat’s ruined face would haunt his dreams forever, and the anger welled in him so powerfully that it took every ounce of his strength to grip the side of the table instead of attacking Loring. He turned away to help Ben, who was still being sick, while Chauncy asked Loring for some water.

Loring was leaning against the door jamb, smirking. “Sorry, we’re not a restaurant,” he said. He gestured toward Nat’s body. “You going to get that thing out of here?”

“Could we have some help?” Chauncy asked.

“Nope. We don’t owe a criminal’s family anything.”

“Nat wasn’t …” Billy started angrily, and Herc clamped a restraining hand on his arm.

Herc turned to Mr. Chauncy. “Can you back your SUV up to the garage door?”

Chauncy nodded, understanding, and went to get the car. He backed it as close as he could to the garage and opened up the cargo space. There would be just about enough room to take Nat home in it. Herc clamped his jaw, and lifted Nat’s body, telling himself that Nat was gone, that these indignities didn’t matter to him anymore, that all he had in his arms was an empty shell. It didn’t help much, but he got it done and turned back to Loring who had watched it all with the same derisive grin on his face.

“Are we done?” Herc asked evenly. “Any paperwork to sign or anything?”

Loring shook his head. “No paperwork, but your buddy over there incurred janitorial fees when he puked on the floor.”

“How much?” Herc asked, wanting more than anything else to kill the man in front of him.

Loring tilted his head and looked at him speculatively. “A hundred.”

Herc pulled a roll of bills out of his pocket and peeled off five twenties, grateful to John for insisting that he take some cash with him. He handed to money to Loring.

“The dead guy was a friend of yours?” Loring inquired.

“Yeah.”

“Good thing we got the Simcoe Amendment on the DCA now,” Loring commented, looking Herc in the eye. “It keeps all kinds of scum off the streets.”

“Not all of them,” Herc retorted, and walked out of the garage to join the others.

Now they were just a few miles from Coventry, where Nat’s family lived. He was in the front seat with Chauncy, Ben in the back with Billy. Ben still looked like hell, his face gray and haggard. They had stopped to get him some water, which he had accepted, but he hadn’t spoken a word since they left Auburn. Herc had tried asking him a couple of direct questions, but it was as if he didn’t hear them. He sat staring out the window.

When Chauncy pulled into the Hales’ driveway, Nat’s mother was standing at the door as if she had been waiting. She came toward the car eagerly, and Herc realized with horror that she expected to see Nat’s body. He stepped quickly in front of her, his hands lightly on her arms, to stop her.

She looked up at him, her blue eyes, so like Nat’s, filled with tears. “Please let me see him,” she implored. “I need to see him.”

He pulled her away toward the house, leaving Billy and Mr. Chauncy to deal with Ben. “Come in and sit down for a few minutes,” he told her. “I want to talk to you.”

She frowned, not understanding. “You brought him home, didn’t you?”

“I need to tell you some things,” Herc said. He sat down with her on the couch in the pretty living room with its cream-colored walls and polished furniture. How could such an ordinary house hold so much tragedy? A son dead, a father dying. They all knew that in a matter of weeks what had so recently been a family of four would be reduced to only two. Herc was overwhelmed by the incredible unfairness of it. These were good people who should have been joyfully looking forward to the birth of their first grandchild instead of making arrangements to bury their son. He held Elizabeth Hale’s hands tightly in his. “Tell me about Nat,” he requested.

She looked at him, puzzled. “But you knew him …”

“I didn’t really have a chance to get to know him well,” he said, lying. “He was more Alex’s friend, so I never got to talk to him much. Tell me what he was like as a kid.”

She smiled through her tears. “Oh, he was such a sweet little boy. He used to bring me dandelions, and I would always put them in a vase. He was so proud of bringing me flowers. He never gave us trouble, you know? I mean, he was a kid, and sometimes he made bad decisions, of course, but he had such a good heart.” The tears spilled over and she clutched his hands tighter. “Such a good heart.”

“Listen now, Mama,” Herc said, “I have to tell you something that’s going to be really hard to hear.” The tears were running down his face too. “We’re not going to let you see your boy.”

“Why? Why can’t I see him?” She was sobbing so that he could barely make out her words. Herc put his arms around her. “I need to see him. I need to see my son!”

She tried to pull away, but he held her tight. “Tell me about the last time you saw him. When was it?”

“What?”

“When did you see him last?”

It was hard for her to talk. “It was … maybe two weeks ago. He came home to get some things. He was always forgetting things. We had just gotten back from Richard’s chemo, and we didn’t expect to see Nat, but there he was in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee.” Her voice broke. “We were always so happy to see him.”

“Tell me what he looked like that day.”

“Oh, he was so handsome. When he was about twelve he went through that awkward stage, and he had to have braces, but he’d grown up to be a handsome man. He was just at the table there like always, and he said, ‘Hi, Mom. I forgot to take my winter jacket back to school, and it’s getting cold.’ And then I asked him if he’d gotten his gloves, and he hadn’t.” She smiled faintly through her tears at the memory. “He laughed and went to get his gloves, and I told his father Nat would forget his head if it wasn’t attached. We always said that, teased him, you know.”

Herc held her tight, and he told her, “I want you to picture him the way he was that day, when he laughed about forgetting his gloves. I want you to see his face like that, so that can be your last memory of him. That boy’s gone now, Mama, but you’ll always have him in your heart. That’s the boy we want you to remember. All that’s in the car out there is an empty shell. I want you to always think of Nat laughing like that, because that’s who he was. He was a good and loving man.”

She cried for a while after that, and Herc held her, thinking of his own mother and what it would be like for her to lose one of them. It was almost unimaginable. Finally Nat’s mother looked up at him and took a breath. “It was bad, wasn’t it, what they did to him?”

“Yeah.”

“And that’s why you won’t let me see him.”

“Yeah.”

She nodded, understanding.

“You know who your boy was,” he told her. “That’s how you’ll remember him.”

She nodded again. “Those Greaters,” she said, her voice tight. “I hope they fucking rot in hell.”

“Me too, Mama, and I’ll do everything I can to see that they do.”

*          *          *          *          *

Alex was surprised to see Marty Middicks and his girlfriend Sylvia join the crowd. Maybe Marty really had had a change of heart. Even if he didn’t like him personally, he should be grateful to have anyone join the Movement and fight against King’s government. He looked around for Johan and Mark and pulled them over to introduce them to Marty and Sylvia, trying his hardest to be appreciative of new support. In fact, there were a lot of people in the crowd that he didn’t know, and it crossed his mind that he ought to talk to the General about that. They wanted more members, needed a lot more if they were ever going to accomplish anything, but how would they know who they could trust? He thought about what Crazy Tony had said, inner circle and outer circle. Maybe the third group was those completely outside the circle, those who didn’t get any information ahead of time. People with military training probably had that stuff all figured out. Need to know, he reminded himself. For now that would have to do.

They had marched to the end of College Walk and were turning onto Amsterdam Avenue, as they had previously with the march that ended in Times Square. This time they planned to stay on Amsterdam, then turn east onto 81st Street, cross Central Park, and come back north on Madison Avenue to 110th, then back to Amsterdam. It was a big loop and he hoped everybody stayed with it for the entire time. It was past time to take this all seriously. So far, everything was going well, and, while he saw a few police cars along the way, the officers stayed in the vehicles, apparently just observing. He wished he knew where Gil and John were and what they might be allowing Danny to get up to. It’s not that he didn’t trust their judgment, but he didn’t like being out of the loop. Actually, maybe that was a way of saying he really _didn’t_ trust their judgment. Was that part of what Tim was trying to tell him?

He was still lost in thought when he heard Eliza’s voice. “ _Alex.”_

He turned to see her just behind him. “Yeah?”

“I called you three times.”

He shrugged, embarrassed. “I was thinking.”

She was at his side now. “Don’t get too lost in thought. You’re supposed to be in charge.”

“That’s what I was thinking about.”

She gave him a raised eyebrow. “That’s perfect lesson in irony for Comp 101.”

“I’ll keep that in mind if I ever decide to be an English professor.” He put his arm around her and pulled her closer. “How’s Patty? I thought you were going to be walking with her and Angelica.”

“I did for a while, but a lot of people were kind of crowding around her, so I got out of the way.” She removed his arm from her shoulder gently but decidedly. “We’re not going to do that here.”

“Okay,” Alex responded, looking straight ahead.

“We need to talk sometime.”

He nodded. “I know. Maybe after Thanksgiving break. You’re going home tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Give your parents and Peggy my love, and kiss the baby for me.”

“I will. My mom wants you and John to come for Christmas again.”

He turned to look at her. “I’d like to do that. It was really a good Christmas last year.”

They walked in silence for a while, and then she asked, almost in spite of herself, “Do you think we’re going to be able to figure it out?”

He didn’t answer right away, and then he said, “I don’t know. I keep wanting to hold your hand or put my arm around you again. It feels like the right thing to do.”

“Where’s John?” she asked, not irrelevantly.

“Up on a roof somewhere, probably, keeping an eye on things.”

“It’s going well, though,” she said, looking around. “A peaceful demonstration.”

“For now. Last time we got all the way to Times Square before it got bad. Now, things are worse overall, people are upset about Nat. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.” Almost as if on cue, the sound of breaking glass made him jump. “Oh, shit,” he muttered.

“That way, I think,” Eliza said, and she followed him through the crowd.

Someone had thrown a broken brick through the plate glass window of a shop that was designated _Level One_ – a shop for Haves only. The economic levels that had been established by the King government had become more rigid. Higher-quality products were not available at all to Deplos, and Hopes only had limited access. Only Haves could buy whatever they wanted when they wanted. Technically, John was the only one of them who was a Have, but Gil, as a foreign national from a very wealthy family, had been given a card that allowed him Have privileges. The Schuylers, although they were well-off, had been classified as Hopes; Alex suspected that had as much to do with Philip Schuyler’s politics as his economic status. Today’s march wasn’t supposed to be about economic issues, but it was unreasonable to expect people not to express their anger at the government for a variety of reasons. That being said, though, Alex was not happy that somebody had just broken a window.

“Yo, knock it off,” he yelled at those who had gathered around the Have-designated shop. “We’re not here to destroy anything. Let’s keep this peaceful. Keep marching.”

Most of them did as they were told, but four or five of them stayed where they were. One of them, a tall guy in a blue hoodie, spoke up. “Fuck you,” he said. “You on their side? You telling me I’m not good enough to buy any of the things in this store?”

“Nah, come on, man,” Alex responded, keeping his tone calm, “you know I don’t agree with any of that stuff. I just don’t want to bring the Greaters down on us. I was at Times Square, and at St. Dismas Church. I don’t want to see anybody else shot.”

“Then look the other way,” the hoodie guy retorted, pulling a twenty-two pistol out of his pocket.

“Alex,” Eliza whispered urgently, pulling on his arm.

Alex stayed where he was. “That’s not going to help us,” he said.

Before the hoodie guy could either aim or put his gun away, shots were fired somewhere else. He turned to look, shoved his gun back into his pocket, and took off sprinting in the direction of the sound.

Alex blew out a long breath, and Eliza started yelling at him. “Are you _crazy?_ He was ready to shoot you. What were you thinking?”

“He wasn’t going to shoot me,” Alex told her. “He was just trying to impress me.”

“Well, he sure as hell impressed me!” Eliza snapped.

“Let’s fight about it later. I need to find out what’s going on.” He headed up the street in the direction the shots had come from, his phone out, texting Tim, John, Angelica, and Johan. Within minutes, he got answers. There had been broken windows and other vandalism in several places. Shots had been heard in at least three locations. Angelica was taking Patty home to keep her out of any possible danger. Everybody else was doing what they could to try to keep things calm. They heard sirens coming closer.

“Fuck,” Alex muttered. “We’ve got to end this.”

He started telling people to go home, that the march was over. Things hadn’t gone according to plan, and violence had broken out. They needed to get off the street for their own safety. Nobody listened to him. Suddenly, almost everyone was smashing windows and grabbing merchandise from Have stores, slashing tires of cars that happened to be parked on the street. Then somebody set a car on fire, and Alex realized that the situation was totally out of his control. He sent an _abort_ message to everyone and told them to regroup at Betsy’s, then he grabbed Eliza’s hand.

“Let’s go,” he directed, and pulled her along with him. They made their way through the mob of citizens who were taking out their fury and frustration on whatever they could find – buildings, cars, and in some cases each other. Alex managed to stay focused, realizing there was nothing he could do against an angry crowd of hundreds, maybe thousands. They cut through an alley onto a smaller street that the mob hadn’t gotten to yet, and stayed on back streets as they made their way north. When they finally made it to the alley behind Betsy’s, they were both gasping for breath. Alex unlocked the door and they went in, relocking the door behind them.

John, Gil, Patty and Angelica were already in the conference room. Angelica was slamming things around on the counter as though she was angry at the cups and kettle. Patty was sitting on the upholstered chair, her face wet with tears. John was swearing steadily under his breath, and Gil had his gun out in his hand, aimed at the floor, but unnerving nonetheless.

Angelica dropped the cup she was holding and grabbed Eliza. Alex looked around the room. “Tell me what you saw,” he ordered.

The story came together in bits and pieces, more information being added as Danny and Tim, Johan, Mark, Deb and Johnny straggled in.

The vandalism and violence had started in several places at around the same time.

“Coordinated, do you think?” Alex asked.

“Hard to tell,” John said. “It all looked spontaneous to me, just people getting mad. A lot of them weren’t really marching about Nat, you know.”

“It could have been planned,” Johan added, “but I don’t think we’ll ever know.”

“It’s still going on,” Mark announced, looking at his phone, “and it’s getting worse.” He showed them video of what was clearly a full-scale riot.

“Where’s that film from?” Alex asked.

“Joe Allicocke,” Mark told him. “He managed to get to his aunt’s apartment. She’s on the sixth floor of her building, and he’s taking this from the window. Nate’s with him. They’re okay, but they’re not going to get back here today.”

Alex nodded. “Anybody checking the news?” he asked.

Gil held up his phone so they could see the local station’s livestream. It showed block after block of the city with smashed windows, burning cars, and now, a few burning buildings. People with blood on their faces and clothes limped past the camera as the same Barbie-clone news anchor who had vilified Nat told them that the riot had been started by a group of illegal immigrants, aided and abetted by Deplo criminals. There had been many casualties, she said, but Police Commissioner Howe had just announced the appointment of a new chief at the Department of Public Safety. “Commissioner Howe assures us that the new Chief, who comes to us from Massachusetts, will bring order and stability to our city. His name is Joshua Loring.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> British General William Howe (the brother of Admiral Howe, who, as you will recall, had 32,000 troops in New York harbor) had an interesting relationship with American-born Loyalist Joshua Loring. It seems that Loring was given a lucrative government appointment in exchange for "not noticing" that his wife was Howe's mistress. I find all three of this trio to be quite obnoxious, and Alex and his friends will agree with me. Herc is already planning to take out Josh Loring.  
> This was, I have to tell you, the hardest chapter to write so far. I intended to post yesterday, but had to take a break after crying my way through the scene with Herc and Nat's mother.  
> I left the riot going on; it's going to continue for a while. Thanksgiving break may not be much of a break, and don't forget that Alex and John are headed to Virginia tomorrow to deliver the piece of phone memory to TJ.  
> Thanks for recent kudos and comments. I love to hear from you, so tell me what you think. <3 <3 <3


	51. Flags Half-Mast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riots and destruction continue. Alex and John take the phone memory to Richmond. Alex worries about secure communication. Gil offers Alex no advice. Alex and Patty go to New Haven for Nat's funeral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long delay. I was out of town for a few days and got no writing done. Thanks for your patience.

John switched out the plates on the Acura again, this time indicating it was from Vermont. Alex was using his James Hawthorne ID, and John’s said he was David Fay from Essex, Vermont, a small town with several families named Fay. Alex had thrown together a quick backstory that he was hoping wouldn’t be tested. Their goal today was to get to Richmond, hand over the phone memory, and get back to New York. The unrest in the city hadn’t stopped, although it had diminished somewhat overnight. They’d heard from Tony and Ethan that things were pretty much the same in Philly and Boston, so their plan was to avoid going through any cities on their way to Richmond. That might make the trip a little longer, but they were less likely to run into trouble. Another benefit was that extra police units had been brought into the cities, so there would be fewer of them in small towns and along the roads. Angelica and Eliza had left early in the morning for Albany to spend the week there, and with Herc still in Connecticut, that left Gil alone to handle anything that came up. Alex trusted Gil’s judgment and knew that he had backup with Tim, Johan, Mark, and the rest, but he still felt uneasy with everyone scattered. He was determined that they would get to Richmond and back on Saturday, even though that meant spending around fifteen hours in the car.

They left early, John driving and Alex sitting in the passenger seat drinking his third cup of coffee. Their guns were secured in the hidden compartment in the console, with the key looking like a decorative pull on Alex’s hoodie. He was more than a little worried about the guns not being easily accessible, but if they got stopped, there was a good chance they’d be searched, and if they had guns on them, the Greaters would be very likely to shoot first. He fiddled with the key, trying to be sure he could unlock the compartment quickly.

“Could you stop twitching?’ John asked with a sigh. “You’re making me nervous.”

“You don’t get nervous,” Alex told him.

“Oh, right, sorry, I forgot. You’re the only one allowed to be nervous.”

Alex sat up straight and looked at him. “Were you being sarcastic?”

John sighed again. “I’m glad you recognize it. Let’s talk or something so I don’t keep thinking I see flashing lights in the rearview.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

John considered and discarded any number of topics that they probably should be talking about, but not in a moving car. “How about you explain the whole Constitution to me?” he finally suggested.

That kept Alex happily occupied until they were well past Philly. He finished explaining the Electoral College and announced, “Where are we? I’m hungry.”

“Wilmington, Delaware, and so am I,” John told him. He pointed to a chain restaurant a block ahead. “Let’s stop there. They’ll have the TVs on and we can catch up on the news.”

They went in, used the rest rooms, and gave their orders to a grim-faced waitress. The TV nearest them was set to a Philadelphia station. News anchors were reporting several deaths in the city as a result of the rioting.

“Fuck,” Alex said, taking out his phone. “I’m calling Gil.”

John put his hand on Alex’s. “Don’t. No unnecessary communication, right? You know Gil will contact you if there’s anything you need to know.”

“I can’t stand not being able to find out where everybody is.”

“I know, but first, they’re probably making it look just as bad as they can on the news. You know they just make shit up. Second, sooner or later, Alex, you’re going to have to accept the fact that you can’t know every single thing all the time.”

Alex slouched in his seat and tore his straw wrapper into tiny pieces. “I hate that.”

“Yeah, I know. Think how the General must feel.”

Alex was silent for a few seconds, then he looked up and gave John a half smile. “Okay, you’ve got me there. Maybe I don’t have quite as much to manage as I think.”

“Right.”

“But still …”

“Stop,” John told him, holding up his hand. “We’ll be home tonight, and you can talk to Gil then.”

The waitress brought their sandwiches then and they ate quickly so they could get back on the road. So far, they’d seen no signs of disturbances, but they hadn’t driven through any cities, taking the longer way around them in the hope of avoiding trouble. They still had to get past Baltimore, but they cut east and stayed away from the interstate and pulled into the diner parking lot just outside of Richmond only a few minutes after the arranged meeting time of two o’clock.

“I just hope to God TJ’s here,” Alex muttered, shoving his hair back off his forehead.

“Why wouldn’t he be?”

“No reason, I’m just anxious, I guess. I want to give the phone memory to TJ and be done with it.”

They went in, sat down and ordered coffee, but saw no sign of TJ. “It’s almost two thirty,” Alex said. “I’m going to call him.”

“Give him until three,” John advised.

“Our phones are supposed to be secure, aren’t they?”

“They are, and the less we use them, the more likely they are to stay secure. And could you please keep your voice down?” John jerked his head in the direction of a guy with long light-brown hair who had already walked by their table twice.

Alex snorted. “He just thinks you’re cute.”

“Yeah, probably,” John agreed, rolling his eyes, “but just in case, let’s shut up about secure phones.”

Alex drank some more coffee and checked the time about every ninety seconds and was just about to ignore John and call TJ when the long-haired guy walked casually up to their booth and took a seat next to him.

Alex jumped and said, “Jesus! What the fuck?”

“Sorry,” the guy said, “didn’t mean to startle you or anything.” He turned and looked intently at John. “Don’t I know you from Charleston?”

John’s face went completely still, and so pale that his freckles stood out in contrast. “I don’t think so,” he responded coldly.

The other guy sighed. “Huh, maybe I’m wrong about that.” He made no move to go.

“Look,” Alex told him, “we don’t know you, so how about if you just go back to wherever you were?”

“My name’s Harry,” the guy said.

“Great,” Alex snapped. “Nice name. Now go.”

“Are you still using the coffee maker?”

“What?”

Harry bit his lip and started over. “About a year ago, you got a coffee maker as an unexpected gift. You really like coffee, so I … we … were wondering if you were still using it.”

Alex looked at John. A little color had come back into his face, and he was frowning. “What did you say about a coffee maker?” he asked.

Harry gestured toward Alex. “Your friend got one about a year ago, right? Sort of unexpectedly?”

Alex sighed. “You’re new at this, aren’t you?”

John choked on a laugh. “My turn,” he said. “Tell me where the coffee maker is now, and if you say ‘in the kitchen,’ I’ll slap you.”

“Um, New York?”

“Good. Alex?”

“What language other than English does the coffee maker’s original owner speak?”

Harry blinked at that and had to ask Alex to repeat it. “French,” he responded, looking proud of himself.

Alex nudged John’s foot under the table to get his attention. “ _No me gusta,”_ he said.

John shrugged. _“Lo entiendo, pero …”_

Alex turned back to Harry. “How come you’re here instead of the guy who used to own the coffee maker?”

“It was kind of a last minute change. There’s trouble in town, and he didn’t want to leave. He wanted the rest of the squad to stay there because they have more training.” He flushed and hesitated. “You’re right, I am new at this, but he just told me the coffee maker thing as I was leaving, and that if there was a guy with long curly hair, I should mention Charleston.”

“TJ’s still an asshole,” Alex commented, and Harry looked horrified. Alex waved his hand. “Sorry if I’m criticizing your idol, but we never got along. That being said, though, I trust him to do the right thing. Did he tell you why you were meeting us?”

“No, just that it was urgent.”

“Good answer, since he didn’t know either. In a few minutes, you’re going to walk us out to the car and we’ll give you something. You give it to TJ, and tell him to see what his tech genius can recover from it. I’m not going to tell you any more about it. TJ will recognize the source when he gets the data.”

Harry nodded. “Okay.”

“Listen to me,” Alex continued. “This is important. Don’t screw around. Take it straight to TJ.”

“Okay. I will, I promise.”

When they got to the car, Alex opened the glove box and took out the phone memory, packed carefully in bubble wrap by Danny. He gave it to Harry. “TJ knows how to reach me if he has any questions.”

Harry nodded.

“You said there was trouble in town,” Alex continued. “What kind of trouble?”

“Riots, I guess you could say. Shooting. They were saying five deaths by the time I left.”

“Do you think that’s accurate?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “I think it might be more.”

Alex looked at John. “We need to get home.”

*          *          *          *          *

It was long past midnight when they got back to New York. They’d stayed away from cities again on the way back from Richmond, but Alex’s frequent checks on his phone’s newsfeed told him that the demonstrations in the cities hadn’t subsided.

“Something’s different this time,” he said to John somewhere in the Pine Barrens in New Jersey. “People are still in the streets.”

“Do you think it’s because of Nat? Because this time it focused on an actual person, not on general complaints?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s better than before because more people have joined in, or if it’s worse because more people are getting hurt and dying. I don’t think we’re strong enough or well-organized enough yet to stand up to the Greaters if they come at us at full force.”

John glanced over at him, trying to make out his expression in the dim light. “Do you want to talk to Tony or Ethan?” he asked. “Or maybe to the General?”

“I don’t know.” Alex made a restless movement. “That’s part of the problem. I don’t know enough to know when I need to check with somebody else. We need more training.”

“Yeah, that kid Harry – he didn’t really know what he was doing. If he’d approached the wrong people, God knows what might have happened.”

“We should have a password,” Alex said, “something we could change once a month or so, but that everybody knows, a word that’s common enough that you could work it into a conversation, but unusual enough that it’s unlikely to turn up coincidentally.”

“Like what?” John asked, frowning.

“I don’t know, maybe something like – geranium? Yacht? Asphalt?”

“That would be a hell of a conversation.”

“Not all of them at once, idiot, although maybe there should be two, like you would say something about geraniums, and then I would respond with sentences that mentioned a yacht.”

John snorted. “Oh, okay. That should be easy.”

“I admit, it needs work. I think I should talk to the General about it, or maybe to Ben. Ben was supposed to be in charge of communication.”

“You think Ben’s going to be ready to get back to work soon?” John asked in a completely different tone.

“No,” Alex responded somberly, “I don’t. Herc says he’s still not talking.”

“At all?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t been able to have a real conversation with Herc since he left.”

“You will on Monday,” John said.

“Maybe. I mean, I hope so, but that’s not going to be my priority. I’ll have to take care of Patty.”

“Yeah.” John hesitated for a minute, then said, “You think she’ll be all right?”

“I hope so. I don’t know, John, this is way out of my experience. I mean, I lost my mom, but Patty’s situation is completely different. I can’t imagine having to raise a kid alone.”

“We’ll all help her.”

“Yeah, I know.” Alex sat silently for a while, thinking about Patty and Ben and Nat’s sick father. He wanted to find a way to make things better for them while being perfectly aware that no such way existed. They were out of the dark wooded area now, and he gazed out the window at the passing lights as they approached Newark, wanting to be home, wanting to go to bed with John and stop thinking.

The lights got brighter, and they heard sirens not far away. John drove with extra care, staying exactly at the speed limit, watching the mirrors. Something ahead caught his eye. “Alex, look,” he said. “Fire.”

Something was burning, the flames casting enough light that it was reflecting off the billowing clouds of smoke that rose over it. A building? A block of buildings? Traffic was being redirected around it, and once they got past, John cut east, headed for Jersey City and the Holland Tunnel that would take them back to Manhattan.

Alex sat up straight, alert, tense. A few minutes later, he muttered, “Ah, shit. There’s more.” Another fire ahead, more rerouting, and then yet another. John’s hands were tight on the wheel as they got closer to the river. Neither one of them said aloud that they hoped the tunnel was open, but both of them were thinking it. There were other ways to get to Manhattan, but a closing of the tunnel would be an ominous sign.  John steered onto 78, the route that would take them under the Hudson River, and everything seemed normal. There wasn’t much traffic going into the city this late on a Saturday night. Most of it would be on its way out, people coming home from an evening out to dinner or the theater. The tunnel was open, and Alex breathed a sigh of relief despite his usual claustrophobia at the narrow confines of the old structure with its dingy tile walls. “I hate tunnels,” he said, because that’s what he always said, and he didn’t want John to think anything was different tonight.

“We’ll be out of it soon,” John responded, because that’s how he always responded. They cleared the tunnel, and John turned the car north. “Almost home, babe.”

Alex was gazing out the window. “Everything seem okay to you?” he asked.

“Yeah, so far.” John was silent for a minute, then he added, “It wouldn’t be here, you know.”

John was right. They were in the well-to-do neighborhood to the west of Central Park, mostly Haves with a few prosperous Hopes. That area would be safe. Farther north, the working class Hope/Deplo neighborhoods in Harlem or Washington Heights might not fare so well. Other sections of the city, parts of Brooklyn and the Bronx that had long been struggling economically would be targets for a government determined to prove that the poor deserved their oppression.

“We’ll find out tomorrow,” Alex said finally, too exhausted to think about it anymore. The sound of the key in the apartment door filled him with gratitude, at least for now. An hour later, curled against John, his head against John’s shoulder, he murmured, _“Tengo miedo.”_

 _“Lo se,”_ John told him. _“Yo tambien, yo y tú y todos.”_

_“De verdad?”_

_“Sí.”_ John kissed his hair and pulled him in tighter. _“Duerme, mi amor.”_

*          *          *          *          *

It was one thing to admit to John that he was scared, and to express his concern that they hadn’t had enough training. It would be a completely different matter to say it to anyone else, and he had no intention of doing so. The last thing those involved in this Movement needed to hear was that one of their leaders felt miles out of his depth. On Sunday, he talked to Gil about what had happened in New York on Saturday. He and John had been right in their speculation that the poorer neighborhoods were the ones where there had been fire and vandalism. Gil himself had driven up to Washington Heights, where the TV news had reported rioting and destruction. He’d seen instead fires with no apparent origin, and an unaccountably slow response from the fire department.

“A couple of apartment buildings are gone,” he said now, his voice bitter, “mostly destroyed, but in any case uninhabitable.” He’d given rolls of cash to weeping mothers and an elderly man pushing his wife in a wheelchair, but he didn’t mention that to Alex. “It’s deliberate, you know,” he went on. “Destroy the housing for the poor, blame them for their poverty.”

“But to what end?” Alex asked, spreading his hands. “What does King hope to gain?”

“Power. He’s consolidating power and money for himself and his friends. He’s trying to get to the point where no government money is spent on social programs like school lunches or Medicare. That frees up billions of dollars for the wealthy few. _C’est une saloperie.”_

“Yeah.” Alex was frowning as if he’d only been half listening. “I need to talk to the General. I mean, really sit down and talk with him, not try to have a coded five-minute conversation over the phone.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“No.”

“Ah, that does make it difficult.”

Alex told him about Harry coming to pick up the phone memory and the concern it raised for having some sort of system of recognition in place. “If there was a list of code words, changed once a month or so, a list we could all memorize, three to five words that would all have to be worked into a conversation to verify who we were.”

Gil nodded thoughtfully. “That would be effective, I think, and it doesn’t involve memorizing long lists.”

“It wouldn’t be a way to communicate, of course,” Alex went on, “just a way to identify someone, but once we know we’re on the same side, we can speak freely. Anyway, under other circumstances, I’d talk to Ben about it, but I can’t now.”

Gil gave him a quizzical look, but didn’t say anything.

“Lydia Darragh was supposed to be working on communication too. She’s at Princeton. It might be worth a drive down there to talk to her.”

“Why don’t you see how Ben is doing tomorrow? Maybe then it will be easier to decide.”

“Yeah.” Alex was silent for a minute. “There aren’t enough of us yet to make a real difference, and I don’t know how to bring in more people and keep our organization safe at the same time.”

“When we already have reason to believe that someone has laid information against us, or at least against Nat?”

“Exactly. We need more members, hundreds, maybe thousands more, but we can’t hang recruiting posters on the school bulletin boards. Even when somebody does tell me they want to join, I’m suspicious.”

“You mean Marty Middicks?”

“Yeah.”

“But you weren’t suspicious of Johnny Lamb?”

Alex thought about that. “You’re right. Remember, though, Johnny jumped right in, literally put his life at risk to get Angelica’s gun concealed. I think that’s a point in his favor.”

“Maybe, but it would also be a good move for someone who wanted to spy on us, a … what do you say, double agent?”

“You think Johnny’s working for the Greaters?”

“No, not at all, I’m just saying that there really is no way to know in a short time who is trustworthy. With Marty Middicks, there is the problem that already you don’t like him.”

Alex snorted. “That’s for sure.”

“But, _excuse-moi,_ that is not enough reason to exclude him. You don’t like TJ, but you don’t suspect him of working for King.”

“Yeah, you’re right, you’re right. Maybe I should talk to Rob Townsend about Marty, see if he’s noticed a difference in his attitude.” Alex stood up and walked around Gil’s living room restlessly. _“Tu peux faire du café?’_

_“Bien sûr.”_

Gil took a double handful of K-cups out of the cupboard and put them on the counter. “Choose what you want,” he said, picking up a plain coffee for himself.

Alex decided on hazelnut-mocha and then added two more spoonfuls of sugar to it. Gil shook his head. “That is disgusting.”

"So is the fact that you're buying black market sugar," Alex retorted.

Gil shrugged. "Mostly I am law-abiding, so illegal sugar is a small offense."

"Law-abiding?" Alex snickered.

"It is not the correct term in English?"

"Oh, your English is fine; it's the description that I find inaccurate."

Gil smiled. "Well, perhaps."

Alex drank some coffee. "Have you talked to Angelica or Eliza since they went home for break?"

"Angelica texted to remind me to check on Patty. She wanted to know also if I had heard from you. I think though, it was probably Eliza who asked her to find out." He looked at Alex over the rim of his coffee cup.

Alex looked back steadily. "You want to advise me on anything?"

Gil shrugged again. "You are not a child, Alexander. _Fais comme tu veux."_

 _"Au contraire,"_ Alex replied irritably, "doing what I want to do seems to be the problem."

Gil swallowed the last of his coffee and stood up. "I am not going to involve myself in this, and I will also say frankly that nor should Angelica. Any decisions to be made must be made only by you, John, and Eliza."

"I don't suppose you'd want to tell Angelica that, would you?"

"Oh, hell, no."

*          *          *          *          *

Herc had told Alex to be in New Haven by noon, so he picked Patty up at nine-thirty. Patty was pale but composed, dressed in a simple dark green dress with a plain silver chain necklace.

"You look nice," Alex told her before he thought, and then mentally kicked himself. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean …"

"No, it's okay," she said. "I didn't want to wear black. Nat always said I looked nice in green, so thank you for agreeing with him."

Alex reached across the console of the Kia and squeezed her hand. "It's going to be a tough day, but I'm here for you."

She nodded. "I know. I wish I knew what it was going to be like. I've only ever been to one funeral, when my grandmother died when I was ten. She lived in Florida, though, and we hardly ever saw her, so I wasn't all that upset. This … this will be different."

“For what it’s worth,” Alex said, focusing his attention on the road, “I don’t understand what’s going on. I don’t know why Nat’s parents are choosing to have a very small, private funeral when Nat had so many friends who would like to pay their respects.”

“Yeah.” Patty swallowed hard and looked out the window. “I wish Angelica could have come with us.”

“I know.”

“Herc didn’t explain anything?’

“No. He said as little as possible.” Alex glanced over at the girl next to him. She looked so damned young, he thought. She was the same age as he was, but his own tumultuous life had made him grow up quickly. While he was glad that Patty hadn’t experienced the losses and hardships that he had, it left her with little armor against pain now. He too wished Angelica could be with them. Angelica knew how to talk to Patty. He didn’t feel that anything he might say would help her.

They didn’t talk much on the rest of the drive. Every once in a while Patty would find herself tearing up as a memory of Nat came to the surface of her mind. She was still trying to get used to the idea that she wouldn’t see him again, would never kiss him again, that he wouldn’t get to watch their child grow up. There were times when she convinced herself that she would make it, that she would manage somehow to go on for the baby’s sake. There were other moments when she was overwhelmed with despair at the thought of life without him. Right now, today, the future looked impossibly bleak.

Herc came out the front door with Billy as they pulled into the driveway of the Hales’ home. He drew Patty into a long, tight hug that, for a few minutes at least, made her feel better. “Billy’s going to take you in and introduce you to his parents,” he told her. “I need to talk to Alex for a minute.”

Patty nodded, nervous about meeting Nat’s parents for the first time under these horrible circumstances. Billy took her hand and gave her an encouraging smile, and they went into the house.

“What’s going on?” Alex asked sharply.

Herc shook his head. “Too much,” he said. “First, Ben is no better. He’s barely spoken a word in days. It’s all I can do to get him to eat enough to stay alive and take a shower. I don’t know, Alex. He’s so sure that this was all his fault that it may have broken him.”

“Shit,” Alex muttered, shoving his hair off his forehead. “We’ve already lost Nat. We can’t lose Ben too.”

“I know. I agree, but I’ve got nothing. Maybe if you talk to him …”

“Yeah, okay, but I don’t know how much good I’ll do. Maybe John?”

“Maybe, but I don’t know if we can get Ben to agree to go to New York, and John can’t come here.”

“What the hell is up with the restrictions on who can attend the funeral?” Alex asked. “Patty really needs Angelica with her.”

Herc took a breath and looked over Alex’s head into the distance. “First, that asshole Loring in Auburn more or less warned me that we could be arrested under the Simcoe Amendment to the DCA. They’ve declared that Nat was a seditionist, and now any known associate can be charged with conspiracy to commit sedition.”

Alex stared at him. “That’s all of us.”

“Right. I don’t know if they’ll try to charge all of us or any of us, but we’d better be ready. That’s the main reason that Elizabeth, God bless her, didn’t want anybody to come up from New York. We talked about it, and finally decided that Patty ought to come even if that meant she’d be under suspicion.”

“Jesus, Herc, she’s nineteen and pregnant, you think they’d arrest her?”

“Loring? I wouldn’t put anything past him.”

“You know he’s Director of Public Safety in New York now, right?”

Herc looked disgusted. “Yeah, I heard. He’s a bastard, Alex. Worse, he’s a sadist. We need to be very careful.”

Alex was silent for a moment. “So that’s why you said only Patty and I should come?”

“Well, mostly, but that’s not all. Believe it or not, pressure is being put on churches not to allow burial of so-called criminals in church cemeteries. Elizabeth had to call everybody she knew and beg so that Nat could be buried next to the church their family went to since he was a kid.” Herc’s eyes suddenly filled, and he turned away to get control of himself. “The pastor there – and sorry for the disrespect, but he’s sniveling coward – he made a condition. They can bury Nat in the church cemetery, but they can’t put a headstone on his grave. It has to be left unmarked.”

“Ah, fuck.” Alex started to cry, wiping his eyes with his hands like a little kid. “Nat deserves so much better.”

Herc nodded, his jaw tight. “I know. It was the best compromise we could get.”

“When it’s over,” Alex said, “when we’ve got free elections and a decent government again, we’ll come back here and we’ll put up a stone for Nat. I swear.”

“Yeah.” Herc took a breath. “You okay? We should go in.”

Alex was relieved to see that Patty was sitting next to Nat’s mother on the couch, holding her hand, the two of them deep in conversation. Richard Hale was in a wheelchair and had an oxygen tube in his nose. His pale skin was stretched tight over his cheekbones. Billy was standing next to him. Ben sat a little apart, his hands clasped between his knees. The other man in the room wore a clerical collar, and Alex immediately hated him, but did his best to be civil when Elizabeth introduced him as Reverend Jarvis.

“Patty’s going to ride to the church with us,” Elizabeth said, in a tone that made it clear that there would be no argument. “You boys can follow us.” She turned to Alex. “Ben is going back to New York with you. It will be the best thing for him.”

Alex understood that it was also the best move for everyone’s safety. “Of course,” he agreed.

“You should put his things in your car now,” she continued, her voice tightly controlled. “You’ll want to leave to go home right from the church.” She was trying to convey more than she was saying, but Alex wasn’t sure what.

“You’ll be all right getting back here without help?” he asked, nodding toward Richard Hale’s wheelchair.

“Oh, yes,” Elizabeth responded calmly. “Billy and I will manage.”

Alex helped Billy get his father into the Hales’ car while Herc loaded Ben’s things and his own backpack into the trunk of the Kia. Reverend Jarvis drove his own car, and the pitifully small procession went the few miles to the church. Like most New England churches it was a modest white wooden one with a steeple. Toward the back of the cemetery, a grave had been opened.

The service was very short, Reverend Jarvis reading from a prayer book with no expression and no indication that he had ever known Nat at all. Alex felt far more anger than grief and was filled with a desire to punch the minister in the face. He kept his eyes on the ground, though, and tried to at least pay attention to the final prayer. The coffin was lowered into the ground without further ceremony, and there weren’t even any flowers to place on it. Reverend Jarvis said his quick good-byes and hurried away.

Alex saw Patty’s hands go to her neck, and she unclasped the plain silver chain she was wearing, kissed it, and threw it into the grave. Elizabeth Hale put her arms around the girl who would have become her daughter-in-law this week and held her tight for a few minutes, both of them crying. Then she kissed her on the cheek and pushed her toward Alex.

“Patty says she has good friends and that you all take care of her,” she said.

“We’ll do everything we can to keep her safe,” Alex assured her.

“I won’t be able to see her or talk to her as much as I’d like.”

“I know. If anyone is coming this way, we can bring a message.”

She nodded, almost managing a smile. “There are bad people looking to do bad things. You know that, and Nat knew it too. Pastor Jarvis is so scared he’s shaking. Billy and I have to take care of Richard now, but … later … Billy will be in touch with you.”

Alex’s eyes met hers. “I’ll be happy to hear from him whenever he wants to talk to me.”

She nodded again. “Make Ben understand that it’s not his fault. Nat would hate that he’s feeling like this.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

She put her arms around him for a quick hug. “You should go now,” she told him. “Be careful. Stay safe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry, who may or may not turn up again later, is Henry Lee III, known as Light-Horse Harry Lee. He is not, repeat NOT related to the infamous Charles Lee who appears in "Hamilton" and in "Provoke Outrage."  
> The Reverend Abraham Jarvis was a Loyalist minister from Connecticut who was a supporter of -- wait for it -- Samuel Seabury. Yes, I hate him too.  
> It is true that Nathan Hale is buried somewhere in an unmarked grave, a fact that always makes my heart hurt.  
> Things are still unsettled and there are still riots going on. Joshua Loring, as the new Director of Public Safety in New York, may feel that he needs to bring the disorder to an end. Will anyone be charged with conspiracy to commit sedition because of their association with Nat? Would Loring want to make an example of our friends? You already know the answer to that.  
> Thank you for reading and following. I love hearing from you, so please tell me what you like or even what you don't like.


	52. Look at the Cost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angelica talks to her father. Alex checks up on Marty Middicks. Pie-baking brings back a memory for John. Gil does his best to help Ben.

Eliza was knitting again. It was no longer therapy for her shoulder, which was completely healed, and which she had never mentioned to her parents, but she liked to knit, and it was relaxing. She was making a tiny hoodie for Katie out of soft, fluffy baby yarn. “I love making baby clothes,” she said to her mother. “They’re so small it takes hardly any time to finish a project.”

“That is adorable,” Catherine told her. “Katie looks so cute in pink.”

Katie wasn’t quite a month old yet, but she was paying attention when they talked to her, focusing her big brown eyes on her family’s faces and sometimes frowning in concentration, which made them all laugh.

“Katie looks cute in everything,” Eliza told her mother.

“That’s because she looks like me,” Peggy remarked as she came into the living room and overheard.

Eliza’s eyebrow went up. “Maybe a little, but she’s cuter.”

Peggy smiled. The fact was that they were all enchanted with their unexpected baby sister.

“Do you want me to start dinner, Mom?” Peggy asked. She turned to address Eliza. “Don’t worry, it’s not actual cooking. We’re still doing those box things. We’re going to cook for Thanksgiving, though, right, Mom?”

“That’s what your father tells me. I can cope if you girls help.”

“We will,” Eliza told her. “I’m not sure we’ll manage three different kinds of pie, though.”

Catherine smiled at her. “Too bad John’s not here, right?”

“Yeah,” Eliza responded, smiling back. “I miss him.” _I miss him. I really do miss him, and I miss Alex, and I’m making such a mess of everything. I wish I could talk to Mom about it, but I can’t._ She put her knitting in the basket and followed Peggy into the kitchen to start dinner.

Angelica had more or less cornered Philip in his study. He was at his computer desk and she was in the extra chair with its red leather seat. The chair, like so many things in the brick house, had been there forever. Angelica wondered if it had belonged to her grandparents or even her great-grandparents. She asked her father, knowing he’d be pleased at her interest.

“That was actually one of the dining room chairs in my Uncle Pete’s house,” Philip explained. “After Aunt Betty died, he moved to a smaller place and only wanted four of the chairs, so we took the extras. We’ve had them for about fifteen years now. Maybe one of you girls will need them when you get your own place.”

“When we grow up and get married, you mean?” Angelica asked, putting air quotes around the words.

“Well, there was a time when it was assumed that all nice young ladies would get married someday. I can’t say I’ve never thought of what it would be like to walk you down the aisle.”

“You’re such a traditionalist, Dad.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“Seriously, though, I need to talk to you.”

Philip’s smile faded. “What is it?”

“Dad, things are bad in the city. I don’t know what you’re hearing in Albany, but people are dying.”

“There are always rumors … but it’s so hard to know what’s true. Maybe you girls should come home, just until it blows over.”

“No,” Angelica said hastily. “No. That’s not what I was going to say. And anyway, I don’t think it’s going to blow over.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dad, you worked in the government. What do you think of President King, really? Be honest with me.”

“I think he’s a bad President. I’ll be glad when he’s gone.”

“When will that be?”

“In another three years, the next election,” Philip said as if he was stating the obvious.

“You don’t think he’ll do anything to put off the election, maybe come up with an excuse like we’re in a state of crisis?”

“Angelica, you can’t be serious. Congress would never let that happen.”

“Dad, I don’t see Congress stepping up and confronting him about economic designations or the reinstatement of the Smith Act. They’re rolling over for everything.”

Philip put his hand on his daughter’s arm. “I know it looks like that, but there are good people in Congress. There are lines they won’t let him cross.”

Angelica didn’t believe that for a minute. She wasn’t sure if her father had really convinced himself that all would be well or if he was still trying to protect her. Her parents claimed to understand that their daughters were adults, but they still wanted to shelter them from anything upsetting. She would have liked to talk with her father openly about the Movement, but that would make him aware of the danger she and Eliza faced daily and would only lead to his trying to convince them to leave Columbia and come back to Albany.  That wasn’t an option she would even consider. She stood up and gave her father a hug just as Peggy called from the other room that dinner was ready.

*          *          *          *          *

Alex texted Rob Townsend on his regular phone to meet him for coffee at Betsy’s on Tuesday afternoon. Rob kept a very low profile and almost never came to meetings, but Alex knew he paid attention to everything that was going on. He wanted to see what Rob could tell him about Marty Middicks and Sylvia Johnson. He couldn’t let his personal likes and dislikes dictate who would be involved with the Movement when they needed everyone they could get.

Patty was back at work, behind the counter in her yellow tee shirt as usual. Alex gave her a smile but didn’t want to do or say anything that might fracture her careful composure. Mark Willet gave him his coffee and said apologetically, “Sorry, Alex, we’ve got to limit sugar to one packet per customer until further notice.”

“Fuck King,” Alex commented without heat, and Mark laughed.

Rob was already at a table with his coffee, so Alex sat down with him, stirring the single packet of sugar into his cup. “Rationed sugar,” he muttered. “Until further notice. I wonder what that even means.”

“The Have cafés get all they want,” Rob pointed out in disgust.

“Yeah, well, nobody’s going to let me into a Have café,” Alex responded, “even if I wanted to go to one, which I don’t. I’m learning to take less sugar in my coffee.”

“After a while, you won’t even notice.”

Alex really didn’t believe that, but he didn’t argue. He took a sip of the not-sweet-enough coffee and said, “Tell me what you know about Marty Middicks.”

Rob snorted. “He’s an idiot.”

“Yeah, I know, but he’s come to me a couple of times now saying he wants to help us. Is he King’s idiot or ours?”

“Seriously?” Rob’s eyebrows were up skeptically. He shook his head. “I don’t think he’s smart enough to play some sort of double-agent game. As far as how committed he might be to a cause – I think he’ll always go with the prevailing wind.”

Alex nodded slowly. “Got caught up in Blodman’s popularity, voted for him, and now that things are hard, he regrets his vote.”

“Yeah.”

Alex took another sip of coffee. “There are a lot of people like that. Can we trust them to support us when things get tough?”

Rob considered for a few minutes. “Maybe. Right now, nobody’s offering anything better. If you’re not a Have or a well-off Hope, your future is pretty bleak. I understand that Sylvia’s family has suffered financial reverses, and she may have to drop out of college.”

“That’s what Marty told me.”

“So now that he sees the real-life effects of King’s policies, he wants to change sides.”

“Yeah. The thing is, what if some other demagogue comes along and offers him a new shiny object? Does he dump our cause and go after that one?”

“Probably. I don’t see anybody else going up against King any time soon, though.” Rob crumbled a piece of scone on his plate. “Alex, you can’t require that everybody have pure motives. People are going to join up with the Movement for any number of reasons, and most of them won’t be idealists like you.”

“I’m not an idealist,” Alex snapped as if the word were an insult.

Rob didn’t say anything, just gave him that skeptical look again.

Alex shrugged. “All right, I see what you’re saying. We need more people, and right now Marty’s willing to help.”

“Right. I’m not saying you should trust him with confidential information, but in terms of showing up for a demonstration or carrying out a simple plan, you should welcome anybody who volunteers. There are always going to be more people like Marty Middicks than people like John Laurens. You or John would die for this cause any day; Marty probably wouldn’t. That doesn’t mean he can’t be useful.”

Alex glanced over at Patty, thinking about Nat, an idealist if there ever was one. Rob followed his gaze. “How’s she doing?” he asked softly.

“Okay, I guess. She had to come back to work because she needs the money. Angelica’s been with her a lot, and I think that helps, but she and Eliza went up to Albany for the break.”

“Yeah, I’m driving down to Delaware myself later to have Thanksgiving at my cousin’s. What are you doing?”

“Going to Herc’s again,” Alex said, his voice more upbeat than it had been. “Tomorrow we’re baking pies with John.”

Rob laughed. “That sounds like fun.”

“It’s … interesting. John knows how to cook, and he’s promised I’ll learn eventually, but I’m not so sure.”

Rob left a few minutes later to get on the road for Delaware, leaving Alex as the only customer in the café on a day when most of the students were away on break. He sat thinking about too many things – Nat, Patty, Marty Middicks, the goals of the Movement, Eliza, John, the phone memory, Ben, and how much he needed to talk to the General about communication. He was called back to reality by raised voices behind the counter.

“Just – not now, okay, Mark?” Patty was saying. It sounded to Alex as if she was about to cry. He got up and walked over to the counter. Patty was biting her lip, and Mark looked embarrassed, his face flushed.

“Everything all right?” Alex asked Patty, ignoring Mark.

She shook her head. “It’s nothing, really. I know Mark was trying to help, but …”

Alex turned to Mark. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, looking near tears himself.

“I just don’t feel like being hugged right now,” Patty said, her jaw set. She was looking at Alex, not Mark.

“Jesus, Mark, don’t be a jerk,” Alex snapped. He had no tolerance whatsoever for anyone upsetting Patty now. Her life had fallen apart, and she needed support, not more to worry about.

“I’m sorry, really,” Mark repeated, but Alex saw a flash of anger in his eyes.

“You think it’s none of my business?” Alex challenged.

Mark met his eyes. “Well – yeah.”

“Patty can tell me that. You can’t.”

“It’s okay, Alex,” Patty said, putting her hand on Alex’s arm. “Mark was trying to help, really. He didn’t mean any harm.”

Mark flushed red again. “I’d never do anything to hurt Patty, I swear,” he said to Alex.

Alex ran both hands over his face. “Ah, shit, I know, Mark. John keeps telling me I need more sleep and less caffeine. He’s probably right.” He put out his hand. “Sorry for jumping down your throat.”

Mark shook his hand and managed a smile. “No hard feelings.”

“I’ve got to get home and get some rest. Tomorrow’s pie-baking day.”

*          *          *          *          *

Alex had gotten out of the shower to find John balanced precariously with one foot on the kitchen counter top and one against the wall, holding onto the cupboard frame with one hand while he pulled things out from the shelf over his head. Danny stood below him, ready to catch him if he fell.

Alex stared at him, open-mouthed. “What the actual fuck, John?” he asked. “We never put anything in that cupboard because it’s so hard to reach.”

John started handing down small bags and boxes that Danny passed to Alex. “Could you just give me a minute here, Alex? We’ll discuss it later.”

Alex put the containers on the other side of the counter. It didn’t take John long to empty the cupboard of whatever was in it, and then he carefully closed the door, took Danny’s outstretched hand, and jumped off the counter.

Alex glared at him. “What is that stuff?”

“The plan was that I would get it all down before you were out of the shower. What was your hurry today?”

“Duh, I want to make pies. You still didn’t answer me. And whatever it is, why the hell was it up there where nobody could get to it?”

“I got to it. I put it all up there in the first place, usually by myself.”

“Unless I was here,” Danny put in.

“I might have known you’d be involved,” Alex snorted. He turned to John. “You could have killed yourself!”

“Nah, it’s not that dangerous. I did fall a couple of times, but I never got anything worse than a few bruises.”

Alex threw up his hands. “Fine! Now just what was it that you were risking your life for?”

“I can’t believe you even have to ask,” Danny snickered.

John took Alex’s hands and looked him in the eye, smiling. “It’s sugar, _mi amor._ For the pies. I’ve been saving it up.”

Alex turned red and looked down. “You had to hide it from me, didn’t you?”

“Well …” John put his arms around him. “I didn’t want to make it hard for you.”

Alex buried his face in John’s neck, and Danny beat a hasty retreat to the living room. “Just don’t you guys start making out or anything,” he warned.

“Hey, Danny, watch this,” John said, laughing, and he kissed Alex enthusiastically.

“Gross,” Danny muttered, rolling his eyes.

John kept his arm around Alex. “You’ll fall in love too someday,” he told Danny.

“Yeah, thanks, Grandpa, but I don’t have time for any of that now. I’ve got school and church and a revolution going on, and I seem to recall that somebody said we were making pies today.”

“We’re waiting for Herc,” John said, “which I would have told you if we hadn’t been busy trying to get the sugar out of the cupboard before Alex finished his shower.”

Veronica Mulligan had invited Tim and Danny to Thanksgiving dinner this year, so John had included them both in the pie-making plans. Tim was working on a particularly difficult sermon about being thankful when most of his parishioners had very little to feel grateful about. He’d been glad to send Danny out for the day, but he wasn’t sure if he would get there himself or not. Herc was on his way.

“How long have you been hiding sugar?” Alex asked, looking wistfully at the containers lined up on the counter.

“Months,” John told him. “Any time I had a chance to get a little bit, I put it up there. I’m still not sure we’ll have enough, but we’ll measure it before we start. The pies will still be good, even if they’re a little less sweet.” He was getting out the mixing bowls, measuring cups, and pie pans. “Eleven people … you think four pies will be enough?”

“How many did we make last year?”

“Four, I think, but Danny and Tim weren’t there.”

“And we both like pie,” Danny reminded him.

“Four times six divided by eleven …” John muttered. “I guess it will be enough. Anyway, I’m sure we don’t have enough sugar for five pies.”

Herc arrived a few minutes later, and John started giving orders. “Danny, do you by any chance know how to peel apples?” he asked.

Danny frowned. “Maybe. I mean, how hard can it be?”

“You’d be surprised,” Alex commented drily.

John sighed. “Herc, how about you?”

“I’ll give it a try,” Herc responded.

“I’ll do it,” Alex volunteered. “Really, I can. I learned a lot last year.”

John gave him a mixing bowl, a paring knife, and a bag of apples, and then set out to measure the sugar. They had about half a cup more than they needed.

“So we can have sugar in our coffee tomorrow morning,” Alex said happily.

“I think we should save it for Christmas,” John told him.

“Aren’t we going to Albany for Christmas?” Alex asked.

“Yeah, so would it kill us to take Catherine some extra sugar to help with Christmas dinner? I mean, she’s only got a new baby and her three other daughters and that big house to take care of, so I would think the least we could do would be to do the Christmas baking.”

“You’re right, you’re right, and I am an ungrateful wretch,” Alex admitted, turning red again. He busied himself with the apples, actually getting them peeled without mangling them too much.

Danny had been assigned the pecan pie, and after he had all the ingredients mixed, John filled the pie shell and gave him two forks. “Flip the pecans so they’re all facing the same way.”

“What?”

John showed him. “See, so they look like _tortuguitas_ ,” he said, and then suddenly he choked up. He looked away for a minute, then turned back to Danny, doing his best to smile. “Like little turtles.”

Alex caught Danny’s eye, and Danny nodded. “Yeah, it does look better that way.”

“Hey, am I supposed to add the cinnamon to the filling or sprinkle it on top?” Herc asked, and the moment passed.

 _It must have been Ana who said that to him,_ Alex thought, trying to picture John as a child, earnestly watching Ana and following her instructions. He almost never mentioned her, but when he did, it was clear that she had been more of a mother than the woman who gave birth to him. There was still so much of John’s past that was closed to him, but he had learned not to push. Maybe someday he’d know more, but it would have to be in John’s time, not his.

They finished the pies and cleaned up, and John packed away the remaining sugar.

“You don’t have to do the Spiderman act again, John,” Alex told him. “I promise I won’t touch it.”

John smiled at him. “If you promise, I know you won’t. Anyway, it’s less than a month till Christmas.”

Herc and Danny walked to the bus stop, and John ordered a pizza for dinner.

“We had pizza last year after we made pies,” Alex recalled.

“But we ate it on the floor because I didn’t have any furniture yet.”

Alex laughed. “Yeah, we did. And I didn’t live here.”

“You remember what happened after we finished the pizza?”

“What?”

“You kissed me.”

Alex smiled. “That’s right, the day before Thanksgiving. Our first kiss.” He was quiet for a few minutes, thinking about the last year. So much had happened, but here they were after everything, together and safe, at least for now. What was it Rob Townsend had called them yesterday? “Rob says we’re idealists,” he said.

“You believe that?” John asked.

“Not really. I think there are things worth fighting for, though.”

“Yeah. I wonder where we’ll be next Thanksgiving.”

“Right here, I hope.”

John looked at him somberly. “You think things will hold together for another year?”

Alex reached for his hand. “I doubt it, _mi amor,_ but I’ll keep hoping.”

*          *          *          *          *

Ben was staying with Gil again, at least through Thanksgiving break, and Gil had announced calmly that they would be spending Thanksgiving with the Gérards.

“Just go without me,” Ben said. “I don’t care about Thanksgiving.”

“I can’t do that,” Gil told him. “I already mentioned that I had a friend staying with me, so of course Monsieur Gérard invited you. It would be very rude not to go.”

“Jesus, Gil, can’t you tell him that I’m sick or something?”

“But then he would expect me to stay here with you. It would be very strange if I were to abandon my sick friend to go out to dinner. Monsieur Gérard would be quite upset with me.”

“Who is this guy, anyway?”

“Monsieur Conrad Gérard, an attaché at the French Embassy, and the dearest friend of the uncle who raised me.”

Gil didn’t mention that his uncle had died some years ago, nor that he had visited Monsieur Gérard in his office the day before, explaining the distress that his friend was suffering. Monsieur Gérard, like most of the French, despised President King and was deeply sympathetic to the Movement. A former military man, he understood the sort of survivor’s guilt that Ben was dealing with, and he encouraged Gil to bring him to dinner. “Perhaps I may talk about something that could be helpful to him,” he said. “Not directly, of course.”

Gil wasn’t sure what he meant or if it was a good idea, but he was determined to drag Ben with him whether he wanted to go or not. It wasn’t that he expected Ben to be perfectly fine. He had, after all, just lost his best friend. Of course he was still grieving. What worried Gil was that unlike everyone else, Ben had shut down. Patty was clinging to Angelica and the rest of them were at least talking to one another, talking about Nat with sadness, yes, but also with affection, smiling when someone brought up a fond memory or told a favorite story. Ben never even mentioned Nat’s name.

Thanksgiving dinner at the home of the Gérards was very formal, served on elegant white china by silent white-coated waiters. There were several other guests, a few from the embassy, and some American friends as well.

Madame Gérard smiled as she said, “I suppose it is somewhat presumptuous of me to host the dinner for an American holiday, but Conrad and I enjoy so much hospitality from our American friends that I wish very much to honor this special day.” She turned to Ben, who was seated on her right. “Gilbert tells me that you are from Connecticut. We visited Mystic Seaport last summer, and it was so interesting. Are you from near there?”

Ben was forced to respond, and when he mentioned New Haven, it turned out that Madame Gérard had a niece who had attended Yale, and she asked him more questions. It didn’t exactly lead to a lively conversation, but at least Ben was talking.

While the waiters were clearing the table between courses, Monsieur Gérard said, “You know, after Thanksgiving last year, Gilbert spoke to me about the history behind this holiday. One of his American friends had instructed him, _n’est-ce pas, Gilbert?”_

Gil smiled. “Yes, my friend Alexander. He is quite enthusiastic about American history and felt I should understand why this holiday is so important.”

“Because of that, I have recently been reading a very interesting biography of William Bradford, who was one of the leaders of the Pilgrim colony,” Monsieur Gérard went on.

 _“Ah, bon?”_ Gil responded, glancing at Ben across the table to see if he was paying attention. It was hard to tell, but at least he wasn’t looking down.

“Perhaps because this is the first time I am learning this story, I am struck by how very much these Pilgrims suffered. Did you know that within less than three months of their arrival, more than half of them were dead?”

Several of the guests murmured their surprise.

“I do not say this to relate to you a sad story on a holiday, but in reading about William Bradford, I think how very difficult it must have been for him to lead them.”

“Why is that, my dear?” Madame Gérard asked.

“He was not supposed to be the leader of the colony,” her husband responded, “but after the first leader died, it fell to him. It was a heavy burden, I think, not only surviving the deaths of so many who must have been his friends, but then having to make decisions every day that affected the lives of those who still lived. It would have been completely understandable if he had given up, but he didn’t, and because of his leadership, the colony survived and eventually prospered.” He smiled and waved his hand. “Excuse me, I often have far too much to say about books that interest me.”

“This sounds like a very good book,” Gil said. “May I borrow it when you have finished?”

“But of course. I think you will find it worth reading.”

The waiters came in then with dessert, including a very French _tarte tatin_ as well as American pie, and the conversation moved on.

It wasn’t until more than two hours later, on the way home, that Ben spoke directly to Gil.

“Do you think that’s true, what Mr. Gérard read in that book, about surviving being a burden?”

“I think it can be very true,” Gil told him as he turned a corner into uptown traffic, “especially if one is in a position of leadership.”

“Yeah.”

Ben was silent for the rest of the drive, and Gil hoped that he was thinking about what Monsieur Gérard had said. Back in the apartment, Gil watched Ben stare out the window at the passing cars on the street below. After a few minutes, he crossed the room and stood next to him. Ben looked up, making direct eye contact for the first time in nearly two weeks. “I should go back to school on Monday,” he said.

Gil nodded. “I think that would be good.”

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle it,” Ben admitted, his voice strained.

Gil put his hand on Ben’s arm. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said softly.

“I should have …” Ben began.

Gil shook his head. _“No. Stop. It wasn’t your fault.”_

Ben took a deep, shaky breath and leaned his forehead against Gil’s shoulder. Gil held him and let him cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may not be the most festive Thanksgiving, since everyone seems to have something to worry about. Classes resume on Monday, so I hope they can keep their minds on their work.  
> Monsieur Gérard's facts about Bradford and the Pilgrims are correct, and, as he says, sad. His opinions, however, are his own.  
> What comes next for Alex, John and Eliza? For Patty? For the whole country? Things are looking shaky to me ...  
> Thank you all so much for recent kudos and comments. I always love hearing from you. XOXOXO


	53. We Move Under Cover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex struggles with his heavy responsibilities. Mark fails in his efforts to comfort Patty. John tries to help Alex figure things out. Violent episodes continue throughout the country. Then, suddenly, all hell breaks loose, arrests are made, and Movement members, especially Patty and Ben, are in danger. Alex, John, and Gil must make life-and-death decisions in a matter of hours.

It was hard to feel negative around Herc’s family, and especially his mother, but Alex had to keep fighting a vague uneasiness. It was impossible not to be aware of the Mulligan kids’ clothes being a little shabbier than they had been last year. The apartment had been brightened with new paint, but Alex was sure that some pieces of furniture he had seen on other visits were missing. Herc was going to college on a scholarship, but feeding seven people on one salary and paying the rent must be very difficult. With school lunch subsidies cancelled and neighborhood clinics closed, Veronica Mulligan couldn’t be having an easy time providing for her family.

They had put the TV news on before dinner to see if things were settling down, but despite the holiday, there were still reports of continuing disturbances in cities across the country. Transportation was disrupted, and news anchors gave accounts of shortages, not just of sugar and copy paper, but of construction materials, wheat products, and glass containers.

“We should stock up on soda, Rev,” Danny said.

“No, we shouldn’t,” Tim replied. “Canned vegetables, maybe, while they’re still easy to find in the stores.”

Danny made a face and eleven-year-old Diana giggled.

“Well, I don’t like what they’re saying about flour being in short supply,” Veronica Mulligan commented. “That would mean bread prices going up. Do you know how many sandwiches these kids eat in a week?”

“Oh, right,” Apollo said, “not just flour but everything made with flour. That’s a lot of different things.”

“Yeah, we should enjoy the pie while we can,” Herc added.

They did, with everyone complimenting John on how good the pies were.

“All the guys helped,” John smiled.

“Did you peel the apples again?” Veronica asked Alex.

“I did,” Alex told her with a laugh, “and I did a much better job than last year.”

“At least it didn’t take you three hours to peel six apples,” Herc pointed out.

“I turned the pecans over so they looked like little turtles,” Danny put in, not to be outdone.

“Who would want to eat turtles?” Venus asked, making a horrified face.

“No, no, no turtle eating,” Alex corrected hastily. “It’s just – what is it with the pecans, John?”

John looked embarrassed. “It’s just that I think the pie looks nicer if the pecans on top have the rounded side up. It’s no big deal, and nobody’s going to eat any turtles if I’m around.”

Seven-year-old Pandora looked worried. “Are there people who eat turtles?”

“No, of course not,” her mother said, giving Alex a look that stopped him from enlightening Pandora with a lecture on what various cultures considered food animals.

Veronica insisted on sending leftovers home with everyone, and Alex knew better than to refuse, even if he was concerned about Herc’s family having enough.

“It’s not just the money,” he said to John on the way home. “It’s the ration cards and not having access to better-quality items. The whole system is set up to keep poor people poor and to move as many as possible from the middle class to the lower class – Hope to Deplo, if you will. That means an ever-increasing economic advantage for a smaller and smaller group of people. It’s kleptocracy at its worst.”

“Tell me what that means again,” John requested.

“Literally, government by thieves.”

“Oh. Okay, then, that sounds about right for King and his buddies.”

They put the leftovers in the fridge, and Alex paced restlessly, talking more to himself than to John about the evils of King’s government, about what the Movement needed to do, about how they would bring back free elections and voting rights. John sat on the couch and watched him for a while, and then he said, _“Ven, mi amor.”_

Alex went to him and lay down with his head in John’s lap, his eyes closed as John played with his hair and told him how much he loved him. Only John could quiet his racing mind, patiently stroking his cheek and murmuring _“Sh, sh, cálmate._ _Estoy aquí y te quiero.”_

Alex turned on his side and snuggled closer. “I love you so much,” he said sleepily.

“We’re going to be okay,” John told him, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

“When I hear you say it, I believe it. You think we’re going to save the world from destruction.”

John smiled. “Yeah. Not soon, and not all of us will make it, but yeah, I do.”

*          *          *          *          *

On Friday, Alex got a text from Angelica: _Betsy says Patty’s really struggling, so Eliza & I are coming back tomorrow to help. Can you tell her to come to the dorm after work on Saturday & sleep over?_

He texted her back, not sure why she had gone through him instead of Betsy, but it was probably better to spread the communication around to as many different phones as possible.

“Let’s go get some cupcakes,” he said to John.

“Didn’t you just have a piece of leftover pumpkin pie?”

“Yes, but technically, pumpkin is a vegetable.” 

John rolled his eyes. “How about one of Betsy’s nice wholegrain apple muffins?”

“Okay, fine, but pumpkin really is a vegetable.”

Betsy’s was crowded, since Black Friday shoppers were stopping for coffee, and Alex was more than a little surprised to see Gil and Ben at a table in the back. He went to sit with them while John got the coffee. Gil was drinking his usual black coffee, but Ben was actually eating a scone.

“Hey, how are you?” he asked tentatively.

“Sort of better,” Ben responded. “Not okay, but at least I let Gil drag me out of the apartment.”

Alex looked at Gil, then back at Ben. “Did you have Thanksgiving dinner with Gil’s fancy embassy friends?”

“Yeah,” Ben said. “They’re really very nice. How was your Thanksgiving?”

“Great. We were at Herc’s. Tim and Danny were there too, so it was … really good, you know.” His tone belied his words.

“What’s wrong?” Gil asked.

“Nothing, really,” Alex told him, “just that things are awful and people are still getting shot in the streets.”

Gil nodded. “It will get worse before it gets better.”

“Yeah, that’s what John says.”

John arrived at the table then with two cups of coffee and two healthy whole-grain muffins that made Alex roll his eyes.

“Eat the damn muffin, Alex,” John ordered, uncharacteristically irritated.

Alex complied without a word. “This is pretty good,” he mumbled through a mouthful of crumbs.

John sighed. “Anybody have any idea why I put up with him?” he inquired, looking at the ceiling.

 _“Aucune,”_ Gil replied at the same time that Ben said, “None whatsoever.”

Alex gave John a nudge and a quick peck on the cheek that got him a smile in return. “Did you see Patty?” he asked.

“No, but I asked, and Betsy said she’s working in the back today, doing inventory in the stockroom.”

Alex looked around at the busy coffee shop. Betsy was behind the counter, and Deb, Mark, and Johnny were dashing from table to table. Nobody did stockroom inventory on the busiest shopping day of the year. “I’m going to go see if I can talk to her,” he said.

He managed to catch Betsy between customers. “John says Patty is doing inventory today.”

Betsy shrugged. “I needed some stuff sorted out in the stockroom.”

“Okay if I go talk to her?”

“Sure. She can take a break if she wants.”

“Angelica and Eliza are coming back tomorrow.”

He could see the relief in Betsy’s eyes. “That’s good. She’s missed Angelica this week.”

“Angelica wants her to spend the night in the dorm tomorrow. I’ll let her know.”

Betsy put her hand on his arm. “Thanks, Alex. I’m glad Patty has good friends. Her mom – Fran’s a good person, but she can’t help her. She’s too stressed herself.”

“I know. We’ll do whatever we can.”

Patty was, in fact, not doing inventory in the stockroom. She was sitting in the desk chair in Betsy’s tiny office, her head resting on her folded arms. Alex though for a minute that she might be asleep, but she sat up as soon as she heard him. She looked like she hadn’t slept in a week.

“Hey,” he said softly, kneeling down next to the chair. “Can I get you anything?”

She shook her head. “I should be working. I was, but then I fell apart, and Betsy made me come back here. She’s paying me to sit in the office, which she really shouldn’t do because she doesn’t have any extra money either.”

“Angelica texted me this morning. They’re coming back tomorrow, and she said for you to go to the dorm tomorrow afternoon and spend the night there.”

Her face lightened a little. “I’ll be really glad to see her. Angelica’s so easy to talk to.”

That hadn’t been Alex’s experience, but he didn’t begrudge Patty any comfort Angelica might bring her. It occurred to him that in addition to her grief, she might be stressed over other things.

“Has Mark been bothering you?” he asked.

“Not really. I mean, yes, a little, but he’s just trying to help. He’s kind of clueless, but he keeps doing things that he thinks will make me feel better. Like, he brought me flowers. It was a nice thought, but it was weird, you know, a guy giving me flowers two weeks after Nat died.”

Alex didn’t like that. “What did you do?”

“I said thanks and then took them home and threw them away.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

She thought about it. “I don’t think so. He means well, and he hasn’t done anything wrong, really.”

Alex wasn’t so sure. Continued unwanted attentions bordered on harassment. Maybe Angelica could help. He’d talk to her. He took both of Patty’s hands in his. “You know you can call me any time, right? I know you don’t have a phone, but you can call me on any phone, or you can just come to the apartment. John and I will do anything we can to help you.”

She nodded, biting her lip. Her eyes filled with tears. “You know what I’m most afraid of, Alex? I’m afraid of forgetting. I’m afraid that someday I’ll wake up and I won’t be able to remember what his voice sounded like or what it felt like to kiss him.”

He put his arms around her. “You won’t, I promise you,” he said. “You never forget anyone you love.”

*          *          *          *          *

Through Saturday, news reports continued on violence throughout the country. There was no way of knowing how accurate the casualty numbers might be, but there was no doubt in Alex’s mind that people were dying. He finally put a call through to the General to talk to him about strategy, but hung up the phone dissatisfied.

“What did he say?” John asked.

Alex was pacing again. “There aren’t enough of us to make an all-out stand. The General says all we can do for now is make things hard for them. Provoke them so they have to spread their resources thinner, mess with their digital records like you’ve been doing to fuck up things like paychecks and performance reports, cut supply lines wherever we can … it’s not enough.”

“Not yet. This won’t be over soon, but we’re not giving up. Someday there’ll be more of us.”

Alex took a couple of deep breaths. “I wonder how long it ...”

John shrugged. “No point in wondering, really. It will take as long as it takes. We have to keep doing what we can.”

“Yeah.” Alex took another breath and stopped pacing. “I need to talk to Angelica. You want to come with me?”

Angelica and Eliza were both in their dorm room, but Patty was working until four, so she hadn’t arrived yet.

“How are your parents and Peggy and the baby?” John asked as soon as they got there, just in case Alex might forget the niceties.

“They’re all good,” Angelica responded. “The only thing is that dad … I’m not sure, but I think he might be involved in the Movement in some way. I couldn’t get him to confirm anything, so it’s just a feeling.”

“He wouldn’t tell us if he was,” Eliza added. “You know he thinks we’re still twelve years old and need to be protected from everything.”

“He always will,” Angelica said. “Maybe that’s the way fathers are.”

Neither Alex not John responded to that, so Eliza adroitly changed the subject. “Mom said she missed your pies, John.”

John smiled. “I’ll make her some at Christmas, I promise.”

“Which reminds me,” Alex broke in, “isn’t pumpkin a vegetable?”

Angelica pretended to take the question seriously. “Let’s check with Dr. Tucker,” she said.

“Who?”

“He’s the head of the botany department, nitwit. I’m sure he’ll be delighted at your interest in plants.”

Alex waved his hand. “Fine. Listen, I really came to talk to you about Patty before she gets here. Has she said anything to you about Mark?”

Angelica frowned. “Why? What happened?”

“Nothing definite, really. He’s being super-nice to Patty, but way more attentive than she wants him to be. I’m not sure whether he’s just a putz or if somebody should tell him off.”

“Well, he’s not the brightest crayon in the box,” Angelica commented.

“Yeah, so I don’t want to jump down his throat if he’s only trying to be nice but going about it in a stupid way.”

Angelica rolled her eyes. “Look at Alex Hamilton trying not to hurt somebody’s feelings! That’s new.”

Alex flushed dark red, and John stiffened in his chair, his eyes angry. Eliza turned away and gazed at the wall. After a tense moment of silence, Angelica shrugged angrily. “Sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have said it.”

There was another, briefer silence, and then Alex muttered, “Forget it, Ange. I came to tell you what was going on so that you can help Patty. That’s all. No agenda.”

Angelica put her hand to her face. “I know. I really am sorry.” She took her hand away and Alex was surprised to see tears in her eyes. “I know you don’t mean to hurt people, Alex. You’re not malicious.”

Nobody was looking at Eliza, which made it very obvious that they all knew that’s who Angelica was referring to. The atmosphere became even more strained, and then Eliza herself broke the silence. “I should make tea before Patty gets here,” she said, as if that’s what they’d been talking about. She stood up and went to get the kettle. As she passed Alex, he reached out and touched her arm lightly, and she jerked away as if she’d been burned.

Hours later, in bed, Alex lay awake, curled against John, trying to will his mind to stop racing. John was nuzzling the back of his neck. It felt good, but he turned on his side so they were face-to-face. “I’m never going to stop loving you, I promise,” he said.

He could see John smile in the faint light from the street lights. “I know.”

“I wish I knew what to do.”

“About Eliza.” It wasn’t a question.

“Mm-hm.” Alex could barely hum the two syllables to respond.

“Do you love her?” It wasn’t easy for John to ask.

“Yeah, but …” Alex gulped and hesitated. “I feel like I’m in love with her, but I haven’t stopped being in love with you.”

“Are you saying that you want a long-term relationship with her? Something more than sex?”

“I … I don’t … I think so …” Alex was chewing his lip.

John rolled onto his back, staring at the darkness above him. What was Alex thinking about? Of course he loved Eliza. It was impossible _not_ to love Eliza. She was the sweetest, kindest, most caring person he had ever met. He loved her too, just … not the way Alex did. He was quiet for a long time.

Finally, Alex said, “Please talk to me.”

“I’m trying to think it through. Listen, Alex, you know what I was like. You know how I felt about myself. You know how I let myself be treated before I knew you. I need to be sure that if I say it’s okay with me for you to have a relationship with Eliza, I’m not saying it because I’ve gone back to thinking I don’t deserve to be loved or respected.”

“Is that how you feel? John, _mi amor …”_

“Sh.” John put a finger on Alex’s lips. “I don’t know. Give me some time to think it through. For right now, though, please just kiss me.”

Alex didn’t hesitate.

*          *          *          *          *

It was eight o’clock on Sunday morning when the doorbell woke them up. Someone was ringing the bell repeatedly and pounding on the door. The bottom fell out of Alex’s stomach as he thought, _Greaters!_

It wasn’t, though, because whoever was ringing the bell was yelling, “Alex! John! Open the door!”

Alex opened the door as soon as he got his jeans on, John right behind him. Johnny Lamb was standing there, white-faced and shaking. He ducked inside the minute the door was open, shut it behind him and turned the lock.

“What the hell?” Alex asked.

“The Greaters just picked up Betsy,” Johnny said.

Alex was shocked. “Betsy? Why in …”

“Shut up and listen,” Johnny continued. “They arrested her under a Simcoe warrant on the DCA. She’s a known associate of Nat Hale, who has now officially been declared a seditionist. But they weren’t really there for her – they were looking for Patty.”

_“Fuck!”_

John was already on the phone, snapping out orders to Angelica. “Stay in the room, lock the door and stay _silent_ , you hear me? Don’t even run water or flush the toilet. _Shut up!_ You understand they want to take Patty in for conspiracy to commit sedition? I’ll either call you back on this phone or we’ll be there. I don’t know when, but as soon as we can.” He hung up and turned to Alex. “Call Gil. See if Ben is still there or if he’s left for New Haven.”

“Ah, fuck, goddam mother-fucking …” Alex swore, pulling up Gil’s number. “Gil, listen ...”

Ben was still there.

“That’s not all,” Johnny Lamb said. “When they took Betsy to the police car, Patty’s mother was already in it. They’ve arrested her too.”

“Jesus Christ, they’re arresting everybody Nat knew.” Alex’s face froze. “His parents. Oh, my God, Nat’s parents.”

“I’m calling Herc,” John told him. “He’ll know how to get in touch with them.”

They were too late. Within an hour, Herc was able to find out from Mary Floyd in New Haven that Nat’s parents and his brother had been arrested right before dawn. “They took his father in his wheelchair, and his mom was begging them to let her get the oxygen tank,” Mary sobbed, “but they didn’t, and …”

“What about Ben’s parents?” Herc asked.

“I don’t know,” Mary told him, still crying. “I tried to call them but I just got their voicemail.”

Alex put a call straight through to the General and gave him the information as rapidly as he could. “So you’ve got two people secured that the Greaters are looking for, is that correct?”

“Yes, at least for now, Ben Tallmadge and Patty Manning. You know Ben, and Patty’s Nat’s girlfriend. Sir, she’s pregnant. She and Nat were supposed to get married this weekend.”

“Shit,” said the General. “All right, listen. Can you keep them secured?”

“I don’t know,” Alex told him honestly. “The rest of us could all be on a list, and the Greaters could arrest any of us for associating with Nat.”

“If they get Tallmadge, they’ll kill him, maybe the others as well, but him certainly. You need to get him here.”

“There, sir? Your headquarters?”

“Yes. If I give you the location, can someone leave right now?”

“Absolutely, I can …”

“Not you. I need you to stay in place to manage this.”

“Okay, Ben’s at Gil Motier’s apartment, he can …”

“Wait, he’s the one with the embassy contacts, right? French nobility?”

“Well, yes, but he …”

“Don’t argue. Who else have you got that you absolutely trust and who can drive?”

“John Laurens, Herc Mulligan, the Schuyler girls, and Tim Dwight, the pastor.”

“Not the Schuyler girls, and for the love of God, not Henry Laurens’s son. The pastor might be able to get in to see the ones who’ve already been arrested, so keep him there. Send Mulligan. I’m texting the location to you now from another phone. Mulligan’s going to have to follow a map. No GPS in the car, and phones have to be turned off.”

“Got it, sir. What about Patty?”

The General hesitated. “Do whatever you can for her, Alex, with my blessing, but I’ve got no accommodation here for a pregnant woman without technical skills. We change location every couple of weeks and we couldn’t even get her prenatal care.”

“Okay. We’ll figure something out. We’ll have Ben on his way shortly.”

He hung up and reviewed the General’s orders with John. “I’m changing the plates on the car and printing new IDs for Ben and Herc,” John announced. “Give Johnny the keys to your car so he can pick up Herc, and tell Gil to get Ben over here. Oh, and call Danny. I need him to help with the IDs.”

Johnny took the Kia and brought Herc back, then went to pick up Danny. Alex thanked Johnny for everything and then told him to go home. _Need to know_ , and there was too much going on.

“I understand,” Johnny told him, “but I’m not going home. I left Deb in the coffee shop, and we’re going to do our best to keep it open. Betsy’s going to need money.”

Alex nodded. “You’re a good guy, Johnny.” He thought for a minute. “Is Mark there with Deb?”

Johnny shook his head. “He’s not scheduled to work today. Deb was going to call him in, but he’s not picking up his phone.”

“Okay, listen to me. You’re new to this, but you understand _need to know_. Mark does not need to know where Patty is.”

“Absolutely. I wouldn’t have told him anyway.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“He’s pushy with her. She needs space now, and he doesn’t understand that.”

“Okay. Thanks, and keep me posted if you hear from Betsy or Patty’s mom.”

A few minutes after Johnny left, Gil arrived with Ben. “I parked my car in your garage,” he told John, “in your neighbor’s space. He is away for the weekend, right?”

“Yeah, I think so.” John stared at him, frowning. “How’d you get into the garage without a door opener?”

“You should ask Danny. He thought the one he gave me might be useful, and he was correct.”

“Fucking kid is a criminal mastermind,” John muttered. He was glad, though, that Gil’s car wasn’t visible from the street.

“I have to go,” Gil told Alex.

“What? Go where?”

“I can’t tell you. It may not work out.”

“Gil, I swear to God if you think you’re going to get up on a roof somewhere and take out the entire New York City police force …”

“No, nothing like that. At least, not today. It’s something else. I need to go quickly, and I will be back as soon as I can.”

When Gil left, Alex took Ben and Herc into the bedroom to talk to them about where Ben was going. The General’s location would remain undisclosed, but they had to be sure Herc had a map and enough money to get there and back.

“How long will I be there?” Ben asked.

Alex shook his head. “No idea. Maybe for quite a while because any warrant on you will be open for a long time.”

“You’ll let my parents know? And Mary?”

He hadn’t told Ben that they’d been unable to reach his parents. Alex rationalized that to himself as not wanting to upset Ben with something he couldn’t do anything about. “I’ll let them know you’re safe, but I can’t tell them where.”

Ben nodded, pale but composed. “I won’t be able to communicate with them, will I?”

“Not right now. Later, maybe, but I don’t know. I know that you’ll be useful to the General, though. I don’t know who else is at headquarters, but I know the General doesn’t have as much help as he needs.”

“What about Patty?” Ben asked.

Alex bit his lip. “I don’t know. I’ve got to figure something out, but I don’t have any ideas. She doesn’t have any relatives in, like, Kansas or something, does she?”

“Not that I know of. I mean, there might be some cousins somewhere, but you’d have to be pretty close to someone to ask them to risk arrest for hiding you. Patty’s got nobody like that, except us.”

“I’ll work it out.”

Danny came in the door then and went directly to John. “What do you need me to do?”

John explained what IDs and credit cards he needed printed, and Danny nodded, understanding everything and not wasting time on questions. Before he went back to John’s studio, he said to Alex, “Tim says to tell you that churches have been used as sanctuaries for centuries. I think I know what he means by that, but he said you’d understand for sure.”

“Oh, my God,” Alex breathed. “That will buy us some time.”

Danny raised an eyebrow and sketched a wave at the angel picture before he got busy mixing the reflective inks for the IDs.

Alex sat down for a minute, realizing he hadn’t had even a cup of coffee since he got up. He went into the kitchen and made some, yelling to everybody that there was coffee, but no sugar, and then sat back down, thinking, trying to figure out the best way to do it. _The girls must be losing their minds,_ he thought, _but I’m not going to call until I can tell them exactly what to do._ He drank some of the coffee and finally dialed Tim’s number.

“How long do you think?” he asked.

“A couple of weeks, maybe, at the most. There are too many people in and out, and, while I think they’re all trustworthy, it’s risky.”

“It puts you at risk, too, Tim.”

“I know.”

“And Danny.”

“He understands that.” He took a deep breath. “We all signed on for that, Alex.”

“Danny’s fifteen.”

“Sixteen next week, and don’t try to tell me he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing.”

“Okay. I should get back to you within a couple of hours.” He hung up and yelled for John.

*          *          *          *          *

Angelica felt like they had been sitting in the locked dorm room for days, even though, when she checked the time, it had only been a couple of hours. She was trying to do as John had ordered, staying silent and just waiting, but absolutely nothing had happened, and she began to think that maybe it was a false alarm. “I’m going to call Alex,” she whispered to Eliza and Patty, who were sitting on Eliza’s bed trying to pass the time by playing games on Eliza’s phone with the sound off.

Eliza shook her head. “No. John said to wait. We wait.” She was thankful it had been John who had called because if it had been Alex, Angelica would have been even more impatient.

Angelica got up and paced. She was thirsty, and John had ordered them not to run water. It made sense, she admitted to herself. Most students wouldn’t be back from Thanksgiving break until tonight or early tomorrow morning, and if the room was locked and silent, anyone checking would assume the Schuyler sisters were still in Albany. She opened the mini-fridge that they had in the room, but the only thing to drink in there was soda, and she wasn’t thirsty enough for that yet. She was considering how she might convince Eliza that it was okay to run the water long enough to fill a cup when she heard a noise at the door and froze. Someone was tapping lightly, not really knocking. She looked at her sister, and then she heard, “It’s me, Alex,” just above a whisper, and opened the door.

Alex shut and locked the door behind him and pulled Angelica with him to where Patty and Eliza were seated so he could talk to them all at once. “We’re taking Patty to Tim’s church,” he told them, keeping his voice low. He spoke directly to Patty. “You’ll be safe there, at least for a while, and that will give us some time to work out a long-term plan.”

Patty nodded, her brown eyes wide. “My mom?”

“No news yet. I’m sorry. We can’t go back to get any of your things, so Angelica, Eliza, can you pack up some clothes that Patty can use?”

Eliza got a big tote bag out of her closet and started filling it.

“My car’s parked in the parking lot out back,” Alex went on. “The riskiest thing right now is that somebody might recognize Patty between here and the car.”

Angelica looked from Patty to Eliza and back again. “She’s almost exactly the same size as Eliza,” she said. “What if she wears Eliza’s clothes and goes out with me? People are used to seeing us together.”

Alex nodded. “Yes, brilliant. Is there something of Eliza’s that’s distinctive, something everybody who knows her would recognize?”

“My panda hat,” Eliza said. “And that will cover her hair, because it’s lighter than mine.”

“Sunglasses?” Patty suggested.

“And a scarf,” Angelica added. Luckily it was cold enough out that Patty could be bundled up without calling attention to herself. In a few minutes, Patty was dressed in Eliza’s clothes from head to toe, black boots and leggings, a white jacket with red trim, and the panda hat, with a red scarf wound around her neck. While nobody would mistake her for Eliza on close examination, anybody seeing her from a distance walking with Angelica would almost certainly think that’s who she was.

“Give me your car keys,” Angelica said to Alex, holding out her hand.

“What?”

“Come on, Alex, it makes sense. It’s a whole lot easier to get two people out without being noticed instead of three or four. I’ll take Patty to the church and then bring your car back here. It’ll be better anyway, in case somebody comes here looking for Patty. Eliza can say we haven’t seen her and that I’m at the library or something.”

Alex nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. Tell Tim I’ll talk to him later.”

Patty hugged Eliza and Alex, and then they left, Angelica casting one last resigned look at her sister before she closed the door. Alex stood at the window where he would see his car pass by and gave silent thanks when it did. “They’re on their way,” he told Eliza.

She nodded, her eyes on his face, and when he held out his arms, she went to him.

*          *          *          *          *

John and Danny had finished the new IDs that went with the Pennsylvania tags and paperwork for the car. John gave Herc a few hundred dollars in cash and two credit cards in the name of Christopher Brandon. Ben was John Bolton. “There’s another five hundred in twenties in the console compartment with the guns,” John said. “You should only have to stay one night each way so that should be enough.” He attached the console key to the pull on Herc’s jacket zipper so it looked like a decorative fob, and turned to Ben. “You need anything?”

Ben shook his head. “I’ve got enough.” He said, gesturing to the duffle bag at his feet. Gil had packed it for him. He held out his hand to John. “I may not see you for a while.”

John took his hand and pulled him in for a hug. “Take care of yourself,” he said.

“Yeah, you too.” Ben took a breath. “Listen, tell Alex … tell him thanks. And tell Gil I know he set it up, but it helped. He’ll know what I mean.”

“Okay.”

Ben turned to Danny, “Behave yourself.”

Danny grinned at him. “Nah.” His face turned serious. “Stay safe.”

“We should go,” Herc said.

John watched them go out the door and then he sat in a chair and put his head in his hands. He sat like that for a long time, until Danny put a hand on his shoulder and asked, “You okay?” in an unusually gentle voice.

John looked up, his eyes wet. “Yeah, just so much shit going on, you know?”

“Did you eat anything today?” Danny inquired, sounding exactly like John.

“No, you going to make lunch?”

“Yeah,” Danny responded, searching the fridge. He produced some decent scrambled eggs and toast, and they took the time to sit down and eat.

“Alex is taking Patty to the church, isn’t he?” Danny asked.

“I think so.”

“That’s good. She can have the other bedroom, and she can stay there for as long as she wants.”

“They’ll be looking for her, you know,” John told him. “Eventually they’ll get a warrant for the church, too.”

“Alex will figure something out.”

John smiled. “You think Alex is a miracle worker?”

“No, but he’s smart. Meanwhile, I’ll put in a word with Gabriel.” He nodded at the angel picture.

“You really talk to him?”

Danny shrugged. “Sometimes. Can’t hurt, right?”

“Right.”

John had just put the dishes in the dishwasher when Gil got back.

“I need to talk to you, both of you,” he said urgently. He had a document case in his hand. He opened it and began pulling things out. “This is my passport. This is a French passport blank, which is totally illegal for either me or you to have. You need to print the blank, using my passport as a pattern. You have only one chance, because I cannot possibly get another blank. You are to complete the passport in the name of Martine Manet.”

“Who the hell is Martine Manet?” Danny asked.

“Right now she’s Martha Manning,” Gil said. “We call her Patty. You have to finish this passport in less than a week, because six days from now, Madame Gérard is going back to France on a family visit, and she is taking Martine Manet with her.”

“You’re sending Patty to France?” John gasped.

Gil nodded. “The story will be that she was a clerical employee at the embassy, that she had a boyfriend here who broke up with her when he found out she was pregnant, so she is going back to her family in France. My cousin Julien is expecting her.”

“Holy shit, Gil, that’s brilliant.”

“Can you get the passport done in five days?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robert Tucker was the first student to graduate from the Columbia medical school. I've given him the botany department.  
> For readers unfamiliar with New York slang, the word "putz" is from Yiddish and is more or less equivalent to "dick" (in all senses of the word), but has a stronger connotation of stupidity. I tried a couple of other words, but this one worked best, and Alex would certainly use New York slang.  
> Well, pedantic notes aside, suddenly, everything has gone crazy, right? Every single person who knew Nat Hale is now in danger. I took this opportunity to throw in a few hints about things to come that may well have been lost in all the excitement. That was kind of my intention because I don't want the hints to be too obvious.   
> Right now, Herc is driving Ben to an undisclosed location with a car full of cash and guns. Alex and Eliza are making love in Eliza's bed. Tim is hiding a fugitive in his church. Gil has stolen a passport blank from God only knows where, and John and Danny are going to complete it so that Patty can masquerade as a French citizen.  
> Really, what could go wrong?  
> Let me know what you think. XOXOXO


	54. The Situation is Fraught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is tense and tempers are frayed to the breaking point as they deal with getting Ben and Patty safely away. Some people have trust issues, but the Movement can't function without trust among members.

“We need to get dressed,” Eliza said. Her head was on Alex’s shoulder, and his arm was around her. “We can’t keep doing this.”

“I love you,” he said, playing with her hair.

She drew away from him. “I love you too. That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

“We can’t do this to John.”

He pulled her closer. “John understands.”

“You’ve talked to him about it, then?”

Alex was silent.

“That’s what I thought,” she said, her voice bitter. “Maybe I should talk to John myself.” She didn’t mean it. She couldn’t imagine a more difficult conversation.

“No, don’t. I will, I promise, but right now we’re in the middle of all this. …”

“There’s always something going on. You can always find a reason to put it off.” She sat up and started putting her clothes back on. All the intense emotion of half an hour ago had faded, and she was angry with herself for giving in so easily again. She picked up her phone to check the time. “Angelica will be back soon.”

She was sitting on the side of the bed putting her socks on, and he pulled himself up behind her, put his arms around her. “Don’t be mad at me,” he whispered, his lips against the back of her neck.

She bent her head down, and he left little kisses along her hairline until she dropped the sock in her hand and turned around. His hand slid up under her top, under her bra so he could play with her nipple. “ _Damn_ you, Alex,” she said.

“Just a few more minutes,” he coaxed.

“Why do you do this to me?’ she asked, not sure if she was talking to him or herself.

“Because I love you. Because you’re beautiful. Because you’re the sweetest person I’ve ever known.” His hand was still on her breast, and he was kissing her between words. She stopped fighting her feelings and kissed him back, put her hand on him and stroked him, gave it a few minutes to make sure he was ready.

Then she stood up and picked up her sock. “I just want to remind you that if Angelica comes through that door now, she will kill you and not me,” she said, and sat down on the desk chair to pull her sock on.

 _“Fuck!_ How could you …? Goddam it, Eliza …”

She looked at him, her eyes full of love as well as exasperation. “Oh, Alex, grow up.”

*          *          *          *          *

John was using a cotton swab to careful apply ink to a small scrap of blue paper. Danny hovered over the table with a magnifying glass. Gil sat across the room, drinking coffee and trying his best to be patient.

“It’s not bleeding,” Danny pronounced.

John exhaled. “Finally!” It had taken them all day to mix an ink that wouldn’t be absorbed by the special paper used for the French passports. They had cut up one of Gil’s old passports to practice on. “Can you mix it in blue?”

Danny went back to the studio, and John went to get himself some coffee. He sat down on the couch and gave Gil a faint smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll get it done.”

Gil nodded. “I have no doubt.”

“I’m going to need your help with some things, like place of birth and what her address is supposed to be.”

“We’ll use my cousin Julien’s address, and we should probably say she was born in Lyon. It’s not too far from Julien’s and it’s a very big city, so it would be impossible to check in a short time.” He looked around for paper and pencil and found one of Alex’s spiral notebooks with a pen clipped to it. He ripped out a page and wrote his cousin's address on it.

“Should I use her actual birthday?”

“I don’t see why not. Do you know when her birthday is?”

“It was in October, but I don’t remember the day.”

“Angelica will know. Anything else?”

John took a sip of his coffee and put the cup down on the end table. “Yeah, I happened to notice that on your passport you have a whole string of names, and Gilbert is somewhere near the end. Is that, like, normal in France?”

Gil rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache. “Not exactly. It’s the French nobility thing again.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, it must be terrible to be burdened with nobility.”

“Shut up,” Gil told him. “Technically, my last name is duMotier, and my title is Marquis de Lafayette. The rest – Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert – are my first names.”

“So your first name is actually Marie?” John asked, trying to keep a straight face.

“No, it’s Marie-Joseph, and anyway Marie can be used for boys or girls in France. But I don’t use that as my first name, I use Gilbert. You know that.”

John thought for a minute. “So how many first names should Patty have on her passport?”

“I hadn’t thought about it, but it would be unusual to have only one. We don’t want anything to call attention to this passport.”

“So give me a couple more names to add.”

Gil smiled at him. “How about _Laurence?_ ” He pronounced it in French, with the stress on the second syllable. “It’s a girl’s name in French, and it’s quite popular. And Danielle, so she’ll remember the two guys who made her the passport.”

He wrote them down under Julien’s address in his small, neat printing and handed the paper to John. “You have pictures of Patty, right?”

“Yeah, but I was thinking she might want to do something like color her hair to look different. Danny can take another picture of her if she does. Angelica probably has that all worked out. She’ll be here later, I think.”

Gil got up and went to the kitchen to get more coffee. “You know there will be descriptions of her out everywhere, right? Madame Gérard travels under a diplomatic passport, so that will offer some protection, but the less Patty looks like herself, the better it will be.”

Alex came in a few minutes later, looking exhausted, and let them know that Patty had been safely transported to the church. “Have you heard from anybody else?” he asked.

John shook his head. “I keep hoping Johnny or Deb will call and say that Betsy’s back, but nothing.”

“I’ll wait till tomorrow before I call Mary Floyd. It seems to me that even the Greaters aren’t cruel enough to lock up a man with terminal cancer, but I could be wrong.”

“You are almost certainly wrong,” Gil told him. “Remember what Herc said about this man Loring, who is now the Director of Public Safety?”

“Yeah,” Alex responded, his face grim. “Herc says he’s a sadist.” He turned to John. “Is there any coffee?”

“I’ll get you some,” John said. “Did you have lunch?”

Alex thought about it for a minute. “I don’t think so.”

John sighed. “I’ll make you a grilled cheese.”

“I don’t want a grilled cheese,” Alex objected, but John took him by the hand and led him into the kitchen.

Gil watched them. He loved Alex like a brother, but sometimes he wondered how John put up with him.

*          *          *          *          *

Herc had made Ben put on sunglasses and pull the beanie down over his hair. It wasn’t the most effective disguise, but they didn’t have time to do anything else. He expected his own name to show up on Loring’s wanted list, so he kept his hood up, and they avoided stopping anywhere they might be noticed. He filled the gas tank at small independent gas stations, and they got take-out sandwiches from local diners or lunchrooms, eating in the car so that they weren’t in one place long enough for anyone to remember their faces. They were both wearing guns in shoulder holsters under their jackets as they headed west-northwest through Pennsylvania into the Alleghenies to the place that was serving as General Akhdir’s informal headquarters.

“You’ve met the General, right?” Herc asked.

“Yeah, but I didn’t work with him like Alex did. I was in Speaker Dayton’s group.”

“You know what he’s like, though, right?”

“I guess.”

“You think he can pull this off?”

Ben looked out the window at the forest for a while. “I don’t know. The most I can say is, he’s the only one who might be able to do it.”

Herc nodded, watching the road. They’d seen smoke in the distance a few times. There was still rioting, burning, fighting in the streets. It was worse than any of them had thought it would be. “What if he can’t?”

Ben’s eyes were hidden by the sunglasses, so Herc couldn’t read his face. “Well, then, we won’t get to tell our grandchildren stories about how we saved the Republic.”

“Do you regret getting into it?”

“No. We have to try. You?”

“Fuck, no. I’ve got five brothers and sisters who’ll never be allowed to get an education if we don’t win this. I’ll keep going until we win or lose, whatever happens.”

“Do you trust Alex to lead things in New York?”

Herc answered without hesitation. “Alex is a pain in the ass, and he doesn’t deserve John Laurens, but yeah. He’s the smartest person I know. He might fuck up his own life, but he’s been right about the government all along.”

They were silent for a few minutes, and then Ben asked, “Where the hell are we?”

“Can’t tell you,” Herc responded. “You don’t need to know.”

*          *          *          *          *

By the time Angelica got back to the dorm, everything looked like it had when she left, and Eliza had a book and notebook open on the desk. Angelica wasn’t a fool, though. She had known what would happen when she left them there, making the obvious decision that Patty’s life was more important than Eliza’s emotions. Anyway, no matter how much she would prefer to blame Alex for everything, there was no doubt about Eliza’s willing consent. She handed Alex his car keys and he left without saying more than a few words. Angelica hung up her jacket and put the kettle on to make tea.

“How’s Patty?” Eliza asked.

“Pretty much what you’d expect. Scared, worried about her mom … no news yet?”

“Nothing.”

“You want tea?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Angelica opened their small cupboard and took out mugs and teabags, staring silently at the kettle until the water started to boil. She made the tea, added a little milk to Eliza’s, and sat down on her bed. There was an awkward silence, something that never happened between them.

Angelica broke it. “Eliza …”

“Yes. I know you’re dying to ask, so yes, Alex and I had sex, okay?” Eliza’s voice was more sarcastic than it had ever been.

“You think I was going to ask?”

“I don’t know if you were going to ask or not, but I’m sure that you want to know.”

Angelica held up her hand. “It’s none of my business …”

“Right.”

“Except it is, really, because I love you, and Alex Hamilton will break your heart.”

Eliza flushed red and then turned away, gazing out the window. “You don’t know him.”

“Oh, Eliza,” Angelica began.

“Do _not_ fucking patronize me!” Eliza snapped. “You’re only two years older than I am, and you don’t know everything. Jesus, Ange, give me credit for some sense.”

“So are you going to tell me he’s breaking up with John?”

“That’s not what this is about.”

“Excuse me, but that’s exactly what this is about,” Angelica retorted, “unless you’re okay with being his little baby doll on the side, sitting around waiting for him to get bored with John and drop by for a quick fuck.”

“Stop! Stop right now!” Eliza yelled, jumping to her feet. Tears were streaming down her face, and Angelica realized she’d gone too far.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her own eyes filling. “I’m so sorry, Eliza, I didn’t mean that …” She held out her arms and with Eliza crying on her shoulder, she kept apologizing over and over, horrified at what she had said.

“It’s not like that,” Eliza said through her tears.

“I know, I know.” Angelica stroked her hair. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t, but she had no right to talk to anybody that way, especially not to the sister she loved more than anything else in the world. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Eliza sniffed and stepped back, grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. Her face was pale, and she looked like she hadn’t slept in a week. “What’s happening to us, Ange?”

Angelica wiped her eyes. “We’re all stressed. We haven’t even had time to grieve for Nat, and now the Greaters are looking for Patty and Ben, and we don’t know where Betsy is – how can we possibly be okay?”

Eliza nodded. “You’re right. It’s all too much.”

“But we have to deal with it anyway.”

“Yeah.” Eliza hugged her sister. “I know you didn’t mean what you said, Ange. I love you.”

“I love you too, Eliza. You’re my favorite person in the whole world.” She’d said that since she was four years old.

Eliza looked around for her tea and finished it, even though it was cold. “We should go get something to eat. Alex wants us to come over tonight to help strategize, he says.”

“Okay.”

“Ange, are you going to be all right around him? No matter what, we’re still part of the Movement, right?”

“Of course. I’ll be fine. It’s not me I’m worried about.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Eliza said. “I’ll be okay. We’ll figure something out.”

Angelica nodded. She had lied to her sister. She wouldn’t be fine around Alex, but she would manage to conceal that for Eliza’s sake – or maybe not for Eliza’s sake, if she were being completely honest. There were complicated feelings of her own that she would continue to conceal not only from Alex but also from Eliza.

*          *          *          *          *

“Mm, pizza again,” Gil commented without enthusiasm.

“Don’t go all French,” Alex told him. “We’re supporting a local business. Things are tough for small places like Cenzo’s and Betsy’s.”

“I understand,” Gil responded, “and also I would like you to stop using _all French_ as an insult.”

Alex snorted. “Okay, fair enough.” He looked around the room. The group was smaller than it had been – himself, John, Gil, Danny, Angelica, Eliza, Deb and Johnny. Mark was keeping Betsy’s open, and no one else had showed up. They needed more people to participate, not fewer, but they couldn’t exactly recruit openly. Alex tried not to let his frustration show.

“Okay, just to update,” he began, “we’ve heard nothing yet from Patty’s mom or from Betsy, but Tim is trying to get permission to see them as a clergyman. He talked to somebody at Public Safety, and they’re supposed to call him back, but I wouldn’t hold my breath. I’ll call Mary Floyd in the morning and see if she has any news about Nat’s parents and Billy, or about Ben’s parents. I’m hoping they’ve already sent Nat’s parents home, but again, no word yet. As far as I know, Herc and Ben are okay on the road, and Patty is safe. Our question is now, what’s next?”

“First things first,” Angelica said. “We get Patty off safely on Friday.”

“Agreed. Gil, anything we need to do on that?”

Gil shook his head. “Not really. John and Danny are working on the documents, but we did talk this morning about Patty changing her appearance.” He was being deliberately vague, as Johnny and Deb had not been told where Patty was or where she would be going. He looked at Angelica.

“I’ve been thinking about that. Her picture’s on the news, so, yes, definitely.”

“We’ll need a new picture then,” John said. “How fast can you get it done?”

“Tomorrow,” Angelica told him.

“Okay, you do whatever you need to do tomorrow, Danny can take the pictures and bring them here.”

“What else?” Alex asked.

“I hate to even bring this up,” Johnny said, “but why are there warrants out for Betsy and Ben’s parents, but not for any of us? I don’t mean to be negative, but I would think Alex and John would be on somebody’s list.”  

“Yeah, me too,” Alex agreed with a twisted smile, “and the answer is that I don’t know.” He had some suspicions based on a couple of things that the General had said, but there was no need for anyone to know at this point. “I’m hoping that they haven’t made a connection between Nat and us, but that’s all I can think of. Nat’s friendship with Ben goes back years, so anybody who knew him would have known about it, and he and Patty didn’t do anything to conceal their relationship.” He shrugged. “It’s guesswork.”

“What are you hearing from other cities?” Eliza asked. “I know there are still neighborhoods here in New York where there are fires and people in the streets. Is it as bad in Philadelphia or Boston?”

“As far as I know, yes. I haven’t talked with Tony or Ethan for a few days, but last I heard, they were in the same situation as we are here. It’s hard to know how much is deliberately provoked by the Greaters and how much is just people reaching their limits and boiling over.”

“It doesn’t matter who starts each incident,” Deb pointed out. “It all comes from the same source, King’s government and their ridiculous laws. We can’t trust the TV news anymore. According to them, every single illegal act is committed by immigrants or Deplos. Does anybody still believe that garbage?”

“Probably,” John responded. “There are plenty of people in this country who were already suspicious of anybody who speaks with an accent or has brown skin. King is a genius at using the prejudices that already existed to flatter his supporters. He tells them that nobody in their patriotic little category ever does anything wrong. It’s the poor, the immigrants, the ones with darker complexions or ‘foreign’ names. There are probably just enough King supporters that he’d win election again.”

“You really think that?” Eliza asked, dismayed.

“Yeah, I do.” He hesitated a minute, looking around the room uncomfortably. “I grew up with people like King. I hate to admit it, but I know how they think. He can be defeated, but not yet. More people are going to have to see the damage he’s doing.”

“You mean like Marty Middicks wanting to change sides because of what King’s policies are doing to Sylvia’s family?” Alex asked.

“Yeah, exactly, but it will take time because the harm isn’t always obvious right away. Until more people start coming to us, we need to keep doing what we’re doing, making things as hard as possible for King’s government.”

“So, disrupting commerce, sabotage, hacking, stuff like that?” Danny inquired.

“That, and anything else we can think of, but we’re not ready to go into battle yet.”

Gil frowned. “Is that really what you see happening eventually, a full-on armed rebellion?”

John’s eyes were serious. “Absolutely.”

“So, treason?” Deb’s voice was shaky.

“It’s all treason by King’s definition,” Alex said. “Remember that the Smith Act is in effect, so even sitting here having this discussion is treason.”

“But what about all this fighting in the streets now?” Eliza asked, looking at John. “You don’t think it’s going to make any difference?”

“I support it,” John replied. “I’ll help out in any way I can, but we’re way outnumbered and we’re not organized enough. Everything we do is scattershot. I’m sure the General is working on that, and at some point we’ll get our orders.”

“When do you think?” Gil asked.

John shrugged. “I don’t know enough to make a guess. Six months? A year? Two years?”

“I can’t do this for two more years,” Eliza said, trying to hold back tears.

“Yeah, you can,” John told her. “We all can. We have to, because the alternative is worse.”

Three or four phones began to chime at once, and they all checked their screens. Alex’s text was from Mark, and he read it aloud. “Betsy’s home.” He looked up and grinned. “Betsy’s home, guys.”

*          *          *          *          *

The coffee shop was closed but Betsy had agreed to meet with Alex and John in the conference room. Mark, Deb, and Johnny were there too. Betsy looked pale and exhausted, but her first thought wasn’t for herself.

“Is Patty okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, she’s safe.”

“Where is she?” Mark asked.

Alex shook his head. “Sorry, Mark, we’re keeping it need to know only.”

“What the fuck? We’re her friends. We care about her.”

“Absolutely,” Alex agreed. “Nobody doubts that. It’s just that for her safety, the fewer people who know where she is, the better. Same thing with Ben. It’s the policy set by the General, and he’s right.”

Mark stood up, furious. “You’re not even going to tell us where she is?”

“Yo, Mark, chill,” Johnny said, putting his hand on Mark’s arm. “What’s important is that Patty is okay, right?”

Mark shook off Johnny’s hand angrily and turned to him. “Do you know where she is?”

“No,” Johnny told him.

“Neither do I,” Deb added. “Alex is right, the more people who know, the more chance there is that it gets out.”

“You think I would tell somebody …” Mark began.

Alex cut him off. “For fuck’s sake, Mark, nobody is accusing you of anything. Here’s the rationale behind _need to know_ as it was explained to me very clearly. If a Greater holds a gun to your head and asks you where Patty is, you can’t tell him. He may shoot you anyway, but at least he won’t shoot you and Patty both.”

There was a tense silence in the room, and then Mark blew out a breath and held up his hand. “Okay, I get what you’re saying. How long is it going to be until we can know where she is or see her?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you’ll tell us when you can, right?”

Alex hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, as soon as I can be sure it’s safe, I’ll tell you where she is.”

Mark sat down, appeased. He seemed to be the only one who didn’t realize that it might be years before Alex would be sure that Patty was safe.

Alex turned back to Betsy. “I’m sorry. I know you’re tired.”

“It’s okay,” Betsy said. “I would have asked where Patty was myself.”

“I can’t …”

“No, I understand. I don’t need to know, and after today, I couldn’t promise that I’d be able to keep something from the Greaters if they threatened me.”

“Did they threaten you?” John asked.

She shook her head. “Not quite. They just kept asking me the same questions over and over. Mostly they asked things about Nat that I didn’t know. I have no idea why he was in Massachusetts. I mean, I knew him more as Patty’s boyfriend than anything else, and I’ve known Patty since she was sixteen, when she started working here after school. They kept asking me where she was, but I told them I didn’t know. I’m really glad I didn’t have any information because after a few hours, I was so tired and thirsty and stressed that I might have let something slip. ”

“Did you see Patty’s mother at all?” Alex asked.

Betsy shook her head. “Only when we were in the car. I’m sure they asked her the same things. We both knew that Patty had gone to see Angelica, but I knew Johnny or Deb would call you right away and you’d get her someplace safe. Fran’s not home yet?”

“No,” Deb said. “I’ve been calling, and I went to the apartment a couple of times in case they took her phone. Anyway, she’d let us know, and she’d want to know if Patty was okay, so she’d be in touch if she could.”

“What about Nat’s family?” Betsy asked.

“They were picked up around the same time you were, but no word on them yet,” Alex responded. “Same thing with Ben’s parents.”

“But Ben’s okay?”

“Yeah, at least as far as I know.” He hadn’t heard from Herc, but he hadn’t expected to. The General had ordered no communication except for emergency.

“So really,” Mark said, careful to keep his voice level, “what you’re saying is that there’s no information you can give us.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it,” Alex admitted. “Listen, I’ll always tell you as much as I can, but I’m never going to tell you what you don’t need to know, for everybody’s safety.”

Mark nodded reluctantly.

“We get that, Alex,” Johnny said. “We don’t hold it against you.”

Alex wasn’t so sure that was true, but he thanked Johnny anyway. “We should all get some rest. If I get any updates, I’ll be in touch.”

At four o’clock the next afternoon, Mary Floyd called. “Nat’s parents are home,” she told Alex. “His dad isn’t doing well at all because he got dehydrated. Elizabeth was waiting for the doctor to get there when she called me. Ben’s parents are okay, too, the Greaters let them go late last night. But Billy …”

“Nat’s brother?”

“Yeah, he’s still in high school …” Her voice broke, and Alex waited for her to get control. “They arrested him. He’s been charged with sedition.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy belated 257th birthday to Sybil Ludington, born April 5, 1761. I was trying to post this on her birthday, but I didn't quite make it.  
> Everyone in the Movement has to trust everyone else in the Movement in order to achieve a common goal, but it looks like trust is breaking down. How angry is Mark, really? How much damage will Eliza's feelings for/relationship with Alex (I'm not sure what it is at the moment) do to her close, loving relationship with Angelica? And what about Billy? So many things to worry about ...  
> Thanks to everybody for kudos and comments, as always.  
> I posted another work "Look at Where We Started" that covers some of the time between "I Like You a Lot" and "Provoke Outrage," in case you're interested in reading it. Quite a lot of smut in it, though, because once Gil finds his one true love -- well, use your imagination. ;-)


	55. An Ocean Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patty gets a new look and uses her new passport. Danny turns sixteen. The Movement gets two new members. Alex receives bad news.

Patty was seated on a chair in the middle of the kitchen, a towel draped around her. Danny thought she looked small and defenseless and much younger than her nineteen years. He was trying to make her laugh.

“You could just buzz it,” he said to Angelica, who had a pair of scissors in her hand. “Then we’ll get her a couple of tattoos and some black lipstick for a total goth punk look.”

“Thanks, Danny,” Angelica told him, rolling her eyes, “but the point is for her to blend in, not call attention to herself.”

He knew that, but he had gotten a smile out of Patty, and that had been his goal.

Angelica started snipping, and in less than an hour, Patty’s shoulder-length light brown hair had been trimmed to a shaggy pixie cut that ended at her ears. She ran her fingers through it. “It feels weird,” she said. “I’ve never had short hair.”

“It looks cute,” Angelica said. “It’s not a great cut, I’m sure, but you can get it recut in France once you’re there. Now as soon as I clean up, we’re going to turn you into a blonde.”

“Go ahead,” Danny told her. “I’ll sweep up here.”

Angelica gave him a suspicious look, but he seemed to be sincere, so she took Patty into the bathroom to color her hair. “Is everything going okay here?” she asked as she opened the box and got out the various containers and the plastic gloves.

“What do you mean?” Patty asked.

“Just, you don’t really know Tim and Danny well, so I thought it might be awkward.”

Patty grimaced. “Awkward is the last thing I’m thinking about. Actually, they’ve both been great. Tim is doing everything he can to be allowed to see my mom, as her pastor, you know, even though he isn’t. I really appreciate that. And Danny is sweet when you get to know him. He hides behind that smartass thing, but he’s a good guy.” She looked at Angelica reading all the hair-coloring directions carefully. “Have you done this before?”

“No, but I watched a couple of videos. Mix this with this, work it into your hair, wait 25 minutes, rinse it out, and ta-da, you’re a blonde.”

“Let’s do it.”

It was almost as simple as Angelica had made it sound, and when they were done and Patty had dried and styled her hair, she sat staring into the mirror. “Who is that girl?” she asked, only half kidding.

“It makes a difference,” Angelica agreed.

“I’ve got to do my make-up so Danny can take my picture for the passport,” Patty said. “Did you bring some?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t get your usual colors. You’ve got to look different.”

Patty nodded. “Whatever you think will help.”

Angelica handed her a bright red lipstick and black mascara, and Patty put them on, looking a little doubtful. When she finished, she turned around. “What do you think?”

“It’s good, more dramatic than usual, but nice. Gil recommended the red lipstick as being more French.”

“You consulted with Gil about my make-up? That must have been fun.”

“Well, he wasn’t wildly interested, but he did give me that bit of advice. Just be sure you wear the same color on Friday so you look just like your passport picture.”

Patty nodded, still staring at the stranger in the mirror. “I guess I should keep this look when I’m in France, right?”

“Probably, at least for a while. I don’t really think anybody’s going to come looking for you there, but no harm in staying below the radar.”

“Okay, then, let’s tell Danny I’m ready for my picture.”

Danny blinked when he saw Patty, but he didn’t say anything, figuring she probably already felt self-conscious. He had a piece of white posterboard taped to the wall, and he told Patty to stand in front of it. Then he handed her a pair of glasses with round black frames. “Try these on,” he told her. “They’re just plain glass.”

“How do you even have stuff like this?” she asked him, putting the glasses on.

“There are websites …” he responded vaguely, turning her to face him. “Okay, chin up just a tiny bit. Good. Smile, but not a big smile. One more. All right, we’re done. Look.” He showed her the pictures on his phone.

“It doesn’t even look like me,” she said.

“That’s the point, right?”

*          *          *          *          *

Tim had stopped by to talk to Alex after going to the local Greaters station, trying again to get in to see Fran Manning. John was in class, so Alex made coffee, looking disconsolately into the almost-empty can. Coffee was getting hard to find in the grocery stores.

“Thursday’s Danny’s birthday,” Tim said.

Alex sighed and shoved his hair off his face. “I’m sorry, I knew it was soon, but I just hadn’t given it any thought.”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant, and Danny wouldn’t care. He hasn’t even mentioned it himself. I just thought it might be a good opportunity for everybody to come over and say goodbye to Patty before she leaves. Well, everybody who knows where she is, anyway. Danny’s birthday is a good cover to have some people there.”

Alex smiled. “That would be great. I know Eliza wants to see her, but we’re trying to be careful.”

“Absolutely,” Tim nodded. “Just you, John, Gil, Eliza and Angelica, and Herc if he’s back by then. Any word, by the way?”

“Nothing yet. He should have dropped Ben off and been on his way home by now, so I’m assuming he’s okay. If they hadn’t showed up at Headquarters on time, the General would have contacted me. How about you? How’s it going with trying to see Fran?”

Tim snorted. “I’m calling or stopping by the station every day. I’ve filled out more paperwork than I needed to get guardianship of Danny. They even wanted copies of my diploma from divinity school and my ordination certificate. I honestly can’t imagine anything else they could require, but they claim they’re still running a background check. I’ll keep at it.”

“You know Nat’s brother has been arrested, right?”

“Yeah, Danny told me. How are Nat’s parents?”

Alex stared over Tim’s shoulder at nothing in particular. “His dad was already on hospice care. I don’t know about his mom – I mean, how could she be okay, one son dead, one arrested, and her husband dying?” His voice broke and he slammed his hand on the table, “Ah, _fuck!”_ He got up and went to the kitchen for more coffee. He took a long time, but Tim waited silently, his head bowed.

After a while, Alex came back and sat down. “Still praying, Rev?” he asked softly, no flippancy in his voice.

Tim looked up and met his eyes. “Without ceasing.”

Alex drank some coffee. “You know, we volunteered for this – me, you, John, Nat, Ben, everybody else in it. We understand that we might not get out alive, and we’ve all made our peace with it because that’s what we signed on for. What gets to me, though, is what’s happening to people like Nat’s parents or Patty’s mom. They’re totally innocent, not involved in the Movement, just getting their lives ruined because they’re somehow in the way.”

“Collateral damage,” Tim said. “It happens in every war – the London Blitz, the children in Syrian hospitals, the deliberate starving of civilians. We’ll all have blood on our hands by the time this is over.”

Alex reached across the table. “Tim … not you. Never you.”

Tim grasped his hand, but shook his head. “Me too, Alex. The moment I took sides in this, I had to accept that responsibility. It doesn’t mean I regret taking the side I took.”

Alex held onto him. “Keep praying.”

“Always.”

*          *          *          *          *

Herc got back on Wednesday and reported to Alex. “Ben will be all right,” he said. “The General has a million things for him to do, so he won’t have time to worry about anything else.”

“Did you talk to the general at all?” Alex asked.

“Just for a few minutes. He’s pretty busy. He said to give you his best, though, and he tried to tell me how brilliant you are.”

“You believe him?”

“Fuck, no.” Herc smiled, but then his face turned serious again. “He knows John’s father. Did you know that?”

Alex hesitated. “Not exactly, but I suspected it.”

“He doesn’t think much of him.”

“What did he say?”

“It was more the tone of his voice when he mentioned his name. He asked about John, wanted to know how he got involved in the Movement.”

“What did you tell him?”

“The truth. I told him John was your boyfriend, but that he was in the Movement because of his own beliefs, not because of you. Told him John was smart and brave and tried to help people.”

If Alex had been a little better at reading emotions, he might have heard a shade of sadness in Herc’s voice. As it was, he just asked, “Did he give you any indication why he was asking?”

Herc shrugged. “Not really. I got the idea he was trying to figure out if John was anything like his father.”

“He’s not.”

“Yeah, we’ve always known that, but I don’t know if the General did.”

“Did you hear anything about what’s going on in other places?”

“A little. I think it’s about the same in other cities. A lot of fighting, a lot of fires. Somebody said something about Ethan and Sam having their hands full, so I guess that was in Boston.”

Alex nodded. “Sam Adams, that would be. I liked him a lot better than his cousin. Well, no surprise, really, to hear that Boston and Philly and Charleston are having their own problems.”

“You think it’s going to get worse before it gets better?”

Alex didn’t answer him directly. “Did you hear that at Headquarters?”

“Not in so many words, but I think that’s what they’re preparing for. I should probably tell you too, I called Mary Floyd before I came over here, checked on Nat’s parents. She told me about Billy.”

“Yeah.”

“Nat’s mom – no matter what happens, she’s going to need help.”

Alex bit his lip. “You’re not wrong, Herc, but it’s like the General said when I told him about Patty. Sometimes there’s nothing we can do. I can’t see any scenario where we can break Billy out of a government prison and get him safely away somewhere.”

“We got Ben to Headquarters, and we’re getting Patty to France.”

“We were able to get Ben to Headquarters because the General can use him there. We’re getting Patty to France because Gil knows people at the Embassy and somebody stole a blank passport for him. It’s not like we’re going to be running some sort of refugee organization, getting people out of the country.”

Herc didn’t say anything, just stood there looking at him. Alex took a breath and went on. “Our job is to bring down King’s government. If we can help people, maybe get them away somewhere, we’ll do it, but that’s not the Movement’s primary purpose. Getting King out of power helps millions. We can’t let ourselves be distracted by individual tragedies.”

“Even if it’s Nat’s mom?”

“Ah, shit, Herc, I loved Nat like a brother, you know I did.” Alex’s throat was tight and he paused for a minute to get his breath. “If we can … but I won’t risk more lives and I won’t risk the Movement itself for one person. I … we can’t.”

Herc looked past Alex, his face somber. Finally he nodded briefly. “I understand what you’re saying. I don’t know if I agree with it or not, but I can see why that’s the policy the General would put in place. It’s staying focused on the big picture. You know, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”

“Is that from the Bible or something?” Alex asked, frowning.

Herc raised an eyebrow. “No, you idiot,” he said. _“Star Trek.”_

*          *          *          *          *

Everybody knew that Danny’s birthday party was really just an opportunity to see Patty before she left, but they were going to let Danny have his birthday too. John had arrived early with a cake that he had bought at some fancy Have bakery, and Danny was giving him a hard time about it as they stood in the kitchen before the party.

“I thought you didn’t use your Have ID to buy luxury goods.”

“I don’t usually, but I thought you should have a birthday cake, and no place else had one,” John told him. “Sugar shortage, you know.”

“Yeah, I heard about some sabotage at a refinery not far from here,” Danny snickered.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, kids should always have cake on their birthdays.” He grinned, knowing that would set Danny off.

“I’m not a kid.”

“You’re sixteen today. You’re a kid.”

“Fuck you.”

“Don’t talk back to your elders …” that was as far as John got because Danny tackled him and took him down onto the kitchen floor. John let him think he was getting away with it, and then in a few neat moves got his knee on Danny’s back and his arms twisted behind him. “Say sorry,” John directed, not even breathing hard.

Danny snorted, so John applied just enough torque to get his cooperation, and in seconds Danny was yelling, “Sorry, sorry, sorry!”

John let go, and Danny stood up, astonished. “What the actual _fuck_ was that?” he gasped, trying to catch his breath.

“That was me showing you not to get too cocky.”

 _“Jesus.”_ Danny rubbed his shoulder, still looking warily at John. “Where’d you learn that?”

“Boarding school,” John said briefly.

“Could you teach me?”

That surprised John, and he had to think about it. “Yeah, I guess. I don’t really like doing it all that much, though.”

Danny nodded slowly. “It’s not about having fun, right?”

“For sure, it’s not about fun.”

“But it might be useful?”

John’s eyes were dark. “Yeah, there have been times when it was useful.”

“And you know enough not to hurt somebody if you just want to … get their attention.”

That made John smile faintly. “Yeah.”

“I want to learn it.”

It took John a few minutes, but then he said, “Okay. You should probably start working out first.”

Danny frowned. “You work out? Like, regularly? I mean, you don’t talk about it.”

John threw his arm across Danny’s shoulders. “There are a lot of things I don’t talk about. Sometimes I have reasons, sometimes things just don’t come up. Sometime you might ask me a question I won’t answer. Deal with it.”

Danny nodded. “Okay. Can I work out with you?”

John shut his eyes. “Lord, give me strength. No.”

Danny gave him a sideways look and grinned. “Worth a try.”

*          *          *          *          *

All the guests at the birthday/farewell party did their best to keep their spirits up, but it was a difficult evening. Everyone kept staring at Patty because she looked so different with her short blonde hair, then glancing away quickly as if they’d done something wrong. It kept them from being able to relax. Patty herself was obviously stressed, tearing up and looking around anxiously for Angelica every few minutes. After tonight it would be months or years before she saw these friends again. She was going to another country where she didn’t even speak the language, and however kind Gil’s cousin Julien might be, he was still a stranger. She would be leaving everyone she knew, including her mother. Tim promised he’d let her know as soon as he was able to talk to her mother, but she understood that communication might be difficult. At one point, she said shakily, “Maybe I should stay here. What’s my mom going to do when she finds out I’ve left the country?”

Alex answered her without hesitation. “You can’t stay here, and your mom will understand that. You’d be arrested and charged with sedition, just like Billy Hale, and we might never see you again. Seditionists can be held indefinitely without trial. Elizabeth Hale can’t even find out where Billy is being held, let alone get in to see him.”

Angelica reached over to take Patty’s hand. “You’re not doing this just for yourself.”

Patty nodded, biting her lip. “You’re right. This is for my baby.”

“You know,” Gil said, “I think Julien will like to be Uncle Julien. There are other cousins, too, and the house is big, so you will have plenty of room. It’s my house, actually,” he added, “but Julien takes care of it for me.”

“You have a _house?_ ” Danny asked.

“Mm, it is sort of a house,” Gil responded, wishing he hadn’t mentioned it.

“So, like, what? A condo?” Danny continued.

“Not exactly.”

“Well, what then?”

Alex was laughing. “Tell him, Gil.”

Gil looked uncharacteristically embarrassed. “It’s … uh … a castle.”

“You have a _castle?_ ”

“It’s a small castle,” Gil said hastily.

“Is that another one of those annoying things about French nobility, like all the names?” John asked.

Gil shrugged. “I can’t help what I inherited.”

Patty looked bewildered. “I’m going to live in a castle?”

“A small castle,” Gil repeated. “Very small, really, compared to many other castles in France.”

“Define small,” Herc requested.

“Maybe eighteen, twenty rooms,” Gil responded, waving his hand vaguely, “but some of the larger rooms like the ballroom are only used occasionally.”

John was grinning at Gil’s discomfort. “There’s a ballroom?”

“Well, the castle is old, and when it was built, people held balls. Please, can we talk about something else now?”

Tim tactfully changed the subject by suggesting it was time to cut the fancy birthday cake, and they all enjoyed the first piece of frosted cake they’d had in a couple of months. Alex had two pieces and even then was licking his finger and picking up stray crumbs with it until John yelled at him for his bad manners. It gave them a chance to laugh a little bit, but nobody could honestly have said it was a happy evening.

As Gil was getting his jacket on to leave, Patty asked if he could bring Angelica when he came to pick her up in the morning.

Gil looked down at her in sympathy, but he said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’d have to make a stop at the dorm to pick her up, and I don’t want any more attention than is absolutely necessary. I visit the Gérards from time to time, so if I’m seen going to their home, it’s normal. If I take a girl with me, that would still be normal, but if I show up with two girls, that might be something someone would remember.”

Patty swallowed hard. “I understand. You’re right.” Her eyes suddenly overflowed. “Gil, I’m so scared.”

 _“Ah, la pauvre!”_ He put his arms around her. “I wish there were some way to keep you safe here, but you know there is not. You will go to France and have your baby and be able to take care of him without being in fear. Maybe you can send us pictures.”

She tried to smile, knowing that sending even a text or an email was too dangerous to attempt.

“Julien can send pictures, anyway. We’ll understand. And then, when things are better here, you can come back.”

She nodded, wondering how long it would be. He kissed the top of her head, his heart aching for her. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Early the next morning, he pulled the Audi to the back of the church and put Patty’s one small suitcase in the car. She looked very different; it wasn't just the short blond hair. She was wearing glasses and had on bright red lipstick. Her outfit was black and white instead of the pastels she usually preferred. He handed her the forged French passport that he was sure would stand up to any scrutiny, and watched as she tearfully hugged Tim and then Danny. He saw Danny put something in her hand.

She stared down at it. “A flash drive?” she asked, puzzled.

“It’s music,” Danny told her. “American music that you like, just in case anybody asks.”

“Okay,” she said, slipping it into her purse, but still puzzled.

Danny took both her hands. “Back when we were getting ready for the concert, I recorded some of the songs during rehearsals, and everybody was goofing around, being silly. Nat’s voice is on it, singing and laughing, and just being … you know, himself.” Danny was having a hard time keeping his voice under control. “So the baby will know what his dad sounded like.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and turned her toward Gil, and then stepped back.

It was nearly twenty-four hours later when Gil got a text from Madame Gérard: _Bien arrivées à Paris où Julien nous attendait. Martine est en route en Auvergne avec lui. À bientôt._

They were safely in France and Patty was with Julien. Gil gave a sigh of relief and called Alex.

*          *          *          *          *

Alex and John were having coffee at Betsy’s, partly because they wanted to see how she was doing. She seemed to be okay, although more subdued than usual. She asked about Patty, of course, but all Alex said was that Patty was okay. Mark was working, and he asked again when they were going to tell him where Patty was, but Alex just said they’d wait until they were sure it was safe. Mark seemed to think that meant in a few weeks, and Alex didn’t correct him. There was still no word about Fran, but Tim was going to try again today.

Alex ordered a whole-grain muffin without complaint. The two pieces of birthday cake he’d had on Thursday, had left him feeling a little sick since it had been so long since he’d had that much sugar. John was just having coffee. He was telling Alex about Danny wanting to learn some martial arts skills when Marty Middicks sat down uninvited at their table.

“Hi,” he said nervously, clutching his coffee mug with both hands.

Alex stared at him, looking him up and down. “Hello.”

John sighed and drank some coffee.

“I just want to find out when the next … um … activity will be.”

“Aren’t you on our email list?” Alex asked flippantly.

“Your email – oh, wait, you don’t have an email list.”

John snickered and took another swallow of coffee.

“Look,” Marty continued, “hate me all you want, Alex. Honestly, I don’t blame you, but your Movement, or whatever you call it, needs people.”

Alex broke off a piece of his muffin and examined it thoughtfully. “What makes you say that?”

“I’ve got family in other parts of the country. There’s fighting everywhere. Half of St. Louis is in flames, but nothing’s getting better. King and his pet Congress just pass more laws, and the Greaters are shooting anybody they want.”

“What do you think we can do?” Alex asked.

“Until you have enough members, probably nothing. You’re so far outnumbered that even with the best organization in the world, you can’t win.”

Alex was looking serious. “Go on.”

“Well, that’s all, really. You need more people, and I’m volunteering. Sylvia too, but she didn’t come because she’s been scared to death of you ever since that night you beat the shit out of Sam Seabury.”

John grinned at that. “You still hanging around with Sam Seabury and the Shippen girl?” he asked.

Marty shook his head. “I may not be as smart as Alex Hamilton, but eventually I learn. Sam doesn’t want anything to do with me anyway. He told me I should break up with Sylvia when her family lost their money. For the sake of my future, he said. I don’t know what kind of future he’s going to have with Sadie Shippen. That girl is just plain stupid.”

“Isn’t her father somebody in Philadelphia?” John inquired casually.

“Yeah, he’s a judge or something, but Sadie’s an idiot. If her father was a schoolteacher or some other Hope, Sam would have dumped her long ago.”

Alex looked across the table at John and raised an eyebrow. “The light may have dawned.”

Marty huffed out a half-laugh at that. “I know I’m late on this, but I’m not lying. I can’t … I don’t want to live under the kinds of laws King has put in place. It’s not right.”

“An understatement indeed,” Alex agreed. “Okay, Marty, you’re in. Do you know how to shoot, by any chance?”

Marty went pale. “You mean a gun?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, while John laughed.

“No. I don’t know anything about guns.”

“Well, then, I’ll make sure one of our best guys takes you and Sylvia to the shooting range this week for some instruction.” He gestured toward John. “Say hi to your new teacher.”

“Me?” John protested. “C’mon, Alex, Gil’s better than I am.”

“True,” Alex nodded, “but I can’t be sure he wouldn’t put a bullet through Marty’s head if he got annoyed with him.”

Marty looked like he might throw up. “Is that a joke?” he asked cautiously.

“Mostly,” Alex told him, “but you can never be absolutely sure about Gil. John will yell at you a lot, but he won’t actually shoot you.”

“Okay,” Marty said. “How long do you think it will take to learn?”

“Give me your phone,” John directed, and then entered his number in Marty’s contact list. “Text me your and Sylvia’s class schedules and I’ll let you know when we can go. After the first session, I’ll have a better idea of how much time you’ll need to spend on it.”

“All right.” Marty stuck his hand out, and they both shook it. “I’m going to go tell Sylvia.”

He left, and Alex said, “I hope we don’t regret that.”

“We’ve got to let people in, Alex,” John reminded him. “We’re going to need hundreds, not dozens.”

“Yeah.” Alex’s phone chimed, and he looked at the screen. “It’s Mary Floyd. I’d better take it.” He stood up restlessly as he said hello and started pacing, then stopped and looked at John, shaking his head. “When? Okay, listen … I know … I’ll make sure he gets the message. Just … tell her I’ll be in touch.” He hung up and ran his hand across his eyes wearily.

“What is it?” John asked, already suspecting.

“Nat’s father died at six o’clock this morning.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Marquis de Lafayette really did have a smallish castle in the town of Chavaniac. He was, in fact, born in that castle. It's still there, and you can go see it. Both the French and the American flags fly over it every day.  
> Judge Edward Shippen of Philadelphia had several daughters. His youngest, Margaret, was known as Peggy. She married Benedict Arnold, and as you know, that didn't go well. She also may have been in love with British spy John André. Busy girl. That trio makes an appearance in Provoke Outrage, but I've called Margaret "Meg" so as to avoid confusion with the IMPORTANT Peggy (Schuyler). The Shippen sister closest in age to Margaret was Sarah, who is called Sadie in this saga, and is usually up to no good.  
> I know there are lots of loose ends dangling around right now, what with Billy Hale in prison and Patty's mother still not even allowed to see her pastor. Hopefully, Tim will get to talk to her soon.  
> Will Alex regret letting Marty and Sylvia into the Movement, or have they really had a change of heart?  
> Thanks to all of you still following this story, and extra thanks for leaving kudos and comments. I love hearing from you.


	56. I Have a Friend With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter all about relationships of all kinds: friendships, more than friendships, changing friendships, sisters, brothers, parents and children. There are memories of past relationships that affect current ones. There may have been hints about some of these things. There might also be some surprises.

John went to talk to Herc, and Alex went back to the apartment to make some calls on a secure phone. He contacted Headquarters first and left a message for Ben. It would have been better to tell Ben directly, but that wasn’t the way it worked at Headquarters, and Alex was secretly relieved – and ashamed of it – that he wouldn’t be the one to tell Ben that Richard Hale was dead.

After that, he called Ethan to let him know and to ask advice on newcomers to the Movement. He was trying to be grateful that Marty and Sylvia had signed on, recognizing that not everyone had to be his personal friend, but he still didn’t feel comfortable about them and was hoping for some guidance. He told Ethan about their newest Movement members.

“Be grateful,” Ethan said bluntly. “We need more members, a lot more, but people are scared.”

“I know, I’m probably being paranoid.”

“Probably. Why don’t you give them some information, nothing major, but something not generally known? Tell them to keep it to themselves, and then see if it spreads.”

Alex thought about it. “That’s not a bad idea.”

“The fact is, Alex, we’re going to have to accept some people that we don’t personally like. I know you and TJ don’t get along.”

“That’s true, but for whatever reason, I trust him, maybe not on a personal level, but in terms of what he’d do for the country.”

“So you’re saying he might try to steal your girlfriend but he wouldn’t betray somebody to the Greaters?”

“Yeah, that’s about right. I guess I’ll have to find a way to work with Marty and Sylvia.”

“For the good of the Movement,” Ethan reminded him.

Crazy Tony told him the same thing. “You know Jack Sullivan was late to join, right? He’s one of my best guys. Seriously, Alex, don’t be an idiot. We’re losing people, we need all the new ones we can get.”

“Losing? You mean Nat?” Alex asked.

“Well, yeah,” Tony said, “and the reality is that he won’t be the only casualty, but I was really thinking of people making the decision to leave.”

Alex thought of Patty, but Tony didn’t need to know about her, and anyway, she was leaving to protect her child, which was a whole different situation. “Who’s leaving?”

“You mean besides Abbie Smith and John Adams conveniently going to study in London?” Tony responded sarcastically. “I thought better of Abbie.”

“Yeah, me too. Anybody since then?”

“You didn’t hear Lydia Darragh is going to Ireland?”

“What? No, since when?”

“Did you know she was born in Ireland?”

“No.”

“Not that it should matter, but it does. Her parents immigrated when she was two or three and they were all naturalized, but now the government has found what they call irregularities in their naturalization process. They revoked citizenship for the whole family, so they’re moving back to Ireland sometime this month.”

“Shit, it shouldn’t be that easy to revoke citizenship.” Alex was well aware that his own claim to citizenship was verified only by records that John had hacked and changed.

“Right,” Tony agreed, “but it looks to me like any naturalized citizen is in danger. Immigration has almost come to a halt now, but of course that was one of King’s goals.”

“Fuck King,” Alex snapped.

“Yeah.” Tony paused for a minute. “You’re sure this is a secure line, right?”

“I’m sure. We still have a handful of reprogrammable phones.”

“You know how to do that?”

“I do now. For a while only John and Danny could handle the tech stuff, but I’ve learned a lot, and they mostly work on printed things now.”

“See, that’s why we need more people, so we can specialize. Molly’s pretty good on tech, but we still depend on John for our IDs.”

“That’s okay, he doesn’t mind.”

“You don’t get what I’m saying, Alex. It’s not that I think John minds, it’s what we’ve been talking about, that we need more people. John’s the only one who can make decent IDs, and there’s no guarantee that John Laurens will be around forever.”

Alex managed to swallow his resentment at Tony’s callous remark, and after he had a chance to calm down, he had to admit that Tony was right. It wasn’t about John, it was about having enough good people to do all the jobs required. All the squads sent difficult technical problems to TJ’s tech genius, but it would be better if each squad had a tech specialist, a forger, a communications expert. He was sure that was what the General had originally counted on, but they were still woefully underprepared. He was going to not only accept Marty and Sylvia, but start looking for more people to learn specialized jobs.

*          *          *          *          *

As John had expected, Herc was saddened, but not surprised by the news about Nat’s father.

“I should try to get up to New Haven to see Elizabeth,” he said. “She’s really alone now. Without Richard to take care of twenty-four-seven, she’s going to have too many empty hours to fill grieving over Nat or worrying about Billy.”

“This weekend, maybe?”

“Yeah, I’ll see if Alex wants to go with me. We should let Elizabeth know that Patty’s okay, at least.”

John nodded. “It would be nice if she could see her grandchild someday – you know, so she could know Nat’s child.”

“In a better world, that would be normal, wouldn’t it?”

“We’ll keep working on it.”

Herc shook his head. “Sometimes … do you ever feel like it’s just too hard? Like it’s so sad that you don’t even think you can keep going?”

John put his hand on Herc’s shoulder. “Every day,” he said, looking into Herc’s eyes. “Every single fucking day.”

Herc stared at him. “Really? I thought … I thought it was just me.”

John managed a faint smile, but Herc could see the darkness in his eyes. “It’s all of us,” John said. “We’re all scared to death that it’s really hopeless and that it will never get any better.”

“But we keep doing it?”

“Fuck, yeah,” John said, doing better with the smile this time.

“Why?”

“Because if we give up, we ensure it will never get better, and we can’t do that. We keep going, and even if we die like Nat did, we know we died trying to make it better.”

Herc put his arms around John and pulled him in, and just for a moment let himself take comfort in holding him and feeling soft curls against his face. He took a breath and stepped back.

“We’re going to be all right,” John said and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Don’t lose heart.”

*          *          *          *          *

It occurred to John after he left Herc that he should be sure that Angelica and Eliza heard the news, so he texted to see where they were. Angelica didn’t answer, but Eliza was in their dorm room, so he stopped by there.

“Where’s Angelica?” he asked.

“She’s got class,” Eliza told him. “She’ll probably be here afterward, an hour or so. Why?”

“I just need to talk to you both about something.”

“Tell me now, John. I can see by your face that it’s not good news, and I can’t sit here waiting until Angelica’s finished class to deal with it.”

“Nat’s father …” John began.

Eliza nodded, blinking away tears. “I thought that was probably it. When?”

“Early this morning. Herc says he’s going up to see Nat’s mom over the weekend.”

“Maybe we could all go.”

John shook his head. “We can’t. They’ll be watching the house. Herc and Alex have already been seen there, so I don’t even think they should go, but I haven’t brought that up to them yet.”

“Do you really think we could be under suspicion just because we go visit a woman whose husband just died? Isn’t that what we would do?”

“It’s what we would do in a normal situation, with a government that isn’t looking for any possible excuse to lock up people who have what they call dangerous ideas.”

Eliza put her hand over her face and sat down on the bed. John’s heart went out to her. “I’ll make you some tea,” he said.

She wiped her eyes and smiled. “Do you realize you spend about half your time making tea or food for the rest of us when we’re upset?”

“Do I?” he asked, getting cups and tea bags. “I hadn’t thought about it.” He put two cups of water in the microwave and turned around to face her.

“My mother would tell you that you can’t make good tea in the microwave,” Eliza told him.

“And she’d be right,” he agreed, “but in the interest of saving time, I’m making us mediocre tea today. Sometimes I think the act of making it helps as much as drinking it.”

She looked at him curiously. “Is that why you like cooking? Is it therapeutic?”

He put the tea bags in the cups and thought about it. “You know, it probably is. I never looked at it that way, but it makes sense. Anyway, whatever the reason, it’s a good thing somebody can cook. The rest of you would starve.”

“Not really,” she said, accepting the tea he handed her. “Angelica and I would live on frozen dinners, and Gil would eat out. Only Alex would starve.”

“Maybe,” he conceded, sipping some tea.

“I don’t really like frozen dinners, though.”

He sat down next to her. “Good to know I’m useful.”

“Oh, John.” She was suddenly overwhelmed, and her eyes filled with tears.

“Hey, hey,” he said. He set their cups on the desk and put his arms around her. “Did I say something wrong?”

She was crying on his shoulder. “No, of course not.”

“I know it’s really sad news about Nat’s dad …”

“No, it’s not that. I mean, yes, it is sad, but I’m not shocked.” She held onto him. “Hearing you say that you’re useful, as if that’s what we need you for, when we all love you so much …”

“It’s okay,” he said, stroking her hair. “I’m not … I like being useful. I like knowing that I can help, even if it’s just making tea.”

“It’s so unfair to you.”

He pulled back a little so he could see her face. “Eliza, what’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “So many things.”

He understood part of it, but she clearly didn’t want to talk about it, so he held her and stroked her hair and didn’t ask her any more questions. Eliza had any number of reasons to be upset. So much had happened in the last few weeks, it was a wonder they weren’t all falling apart. _Sweet Eliza,_ he thought. _She worries about everybody else and never complains. I wish Alex_ … and he stopped there, stunned by his own thoughts, because what had come unbidden into his mind was the wish that Alex would love her the way she deserved to be loved. What the _hell_ was that about? He pulled her in a little closer, and she put her arm around his waist, and he liked the way it felt. He waited, waited for the anxiety that had always accompanied close physical contact with girls, but it didn’t happen. He ran his fingers through her hair, feeling how soft and silky it was, and then he slid his hand up her cheek to do it again, and he liked touching her skin. She turned her head a little so that her cheek was against his, and she let out a long breath and relaxed in his arms.

It almost felt like he was dreaming, but he was perfectly aware of everything, perfectly aware of the silkiness of her hair and the softness of her skin, and the clean floral scent of her soap or shampoo or whatever it was. She was warm and soft in his arms, and he’d never craved softness, but she felt good, and he wanted to keep her there.

“Eliza?” he murmured.

“Hmm?”

“You okay with this?”

“I _like_ it,” she said and turned her head a little more.

It was so easy then to move just that inch further to kiss her, softly, as gently as he could, knowing he was miles out of his depth, and at the same time wanting nothing more than to keep going. Her lips parted for him, and then he had his hand on the back of her head, cradling it and holding her in place, and he kissed her again, not as gently. She let out a little whimper, but not of pain, and then they were lying down on the bed, his mouth on hers, his hands exploring all the softness of her and hers up under his shirt, running her nails down his chest and … _Jesus_.

Her mouth was open to his, and he explored it with his tongue, ran his teeth over her lip to get another sound out of her, and then kissed his way along her cheek to her throat. It took all his strength not to bite that soft, soft skin. He wanted to mark her with his teeth, wanted to see his mark on that pale skin.

What the hell was the matter with him?

He had his hands under her shirt, fumbling with her bra, and she reached behind her back and unclasped it herself so he could cup her breast, and he had never held anything that soft in his hand before. He pushed her shirt up, yanked it over her head, and she threw her bra on the floor. He propped himself up on his elbow, so he could look at her, so he could watch his hand on her. He circled her right breast with his fingers. He knew from long ago what girls liked, but then it had only been about that, never about what he liked. Why did he like this so much? He pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and she gasped and whimpered again. He slid his hand to her other breast and brought his mouth down. She arched up, pushing into his mouth, and he started to suck. She made a noise again, not a whimper now, but a long, low moan that made keeping his pants on painful. He slowed down, swirled his tongue around her nipple and looked at her face. Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated. She had her soft bottom lip between her teeth. He brought his mouth to her left breast, not the nipple now, but the soft rounded rise over her heart, the skin pale as milk, smooth as satin. He took it in his teeth and sucked hard, and the noise she made was from pleasure, not pain. He knew the difference well.

If he didn’t stop now, he wasn’t going to stop, and God only knew where that would end up. She was panting under him, but he needed to get his head clear. He managed to pull back a little, breathing hard. “Eliza …”

She looked up at him, wide-eyed, her lips parted, her hair tangled across the pillow. She was so beautiful that he almost couldn’t bear it. “Eliza, sweetheart, you know it’s me, right?”

“I _know_. I didn’t … I wasn’t expecting …” She put her hand on his cheek and brushed a curl back, tucking it behind his ear. “You’re so _pretty_.” Her hips moved against him.

“You’re not thinking of me as some sort of substitute for Alex, right?”

“No. Oh, no, it’s not that at all. It’s you.” She looked down and traced her finger over the bite mark on her breast. “I didn’t think you liked girls.”

“Yeah, I don’t.”

“Huh,” she said, her finger still on the purple mark, “you could have fooled me.”

He wanted her so much. “Eliza …”

“It seemed like … did it feel good to you?”

Every cell in his body was screaming for him to stop talking and fuck her, so “ _God_ , yes, very good. But isn’t Angelica going to be here in a few minutes?”

“ _Damn_. I forgot.”

“You forgot?”

She smiled up at him and licked her lips. “I was busy.”

 _Fuuuck._ “We should …”

“Fix our clothes?” She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

“That would be good, but that wasn’t what I was going to say.”

She picked up her bra, and he said, “Let me help you.” He stood behind her, brought his hands around to the front, slid them up just to feel the softness one more time before they really had to stop. She leaned back against him as he did it, eyes closed. “That feels so _good_ ,” she whispered. He kissed her throat, leaving no mark, and stepped back. She got her bra and shirt on.

“We should talk,” he said. “Just you and me, sometime when Angelica’s not about to come in.”

She nodded. “Okay.” She put her hand on his cheek. “We’re okay, aren’t we?”

“Fuck, yeah. Of course we are. Don’t worry. We’ll talk. Here, finish your tea.”

“It’s cold.”

“Yeah, mine too.” He drank it anyway, and put the cup down just as Angelica walked in the door.

“Hi,” she said, dropping her bag on the counter. She glanced at the tea mug in Eliza’s hand. “Is there any more tea?”

“No,” Eliza responded, “John just made it in the microwave.”

Angelica raised her eyebrows. “Don’t tell Mom. I’ll make some more.” She busied herself with the kettle and teapot, while Eliza went casually into the bathroom to brush the tangles that her sister hadn’t noticed out of her hair. _Of course she didn’t notice. The last thing she would think is that I was on the verge of having sex with John. Is there something wrong with me? I love Alex. Of course I love John too, but not that way. I love him as a friend … like a brother._ Even as that thought went through her mind, she knew it wasn’t true. The feelings that had come to the surface today were not about friendship. She remembered other times when she had been physically close to John, snuggling up to him on the couch or hugging him. There had always been something special about John, something she felt about him that she didn’t feel about Gil or Herc or Ben or anybody else. She stared at her face in the mirror. Alex had been telling her for months that he was in love with both her and John. Could that be right? What if she was in love with both Alex and John?

_That’s crazy. That’s sick. That’s not normal._

She ran the brush through her hair a few more times. Her lips were swollen. She pressed a cold washcloth to them, thinking about the way John had kissed her. She’d always thought of him as the gentlest person she knew, and he was, but today she had become aware of something under that gentleness. There was some part of John that they didn’t see, the same part that made him good at fighting and good with guns, maybe. There was a part of him that wasn’t gentle at all, and as she thought about the current that shot through her when she felt his teeth on her skin, her heart beat faster, and she knew her panties were getting wet.

 _Stop!_ she told her reflection. _Pull yourself together and go out there and act like nothing happened. You’ll talk to John later. You’ll get it all straightened out._

She went out and accepted a fresh cup of tea from Angelica, not looking at John, who was sitting in the desk chair. She sat down on her bed, which was badly rumpled, and sipped some of the tea, her eyes on her sister.

“It’s terrible about Nat’s dad,” Angelica said. “His poor mother.”

“I know, it’s awful.” She was surprised that her own voice sounded the same as usual. “Herc and Alex are going to New Haven to see her this weekend. I think we should all go, but John doesn’t agree.”

“Yeah, he told me. Listen, we can’t go. We have to go home this weekend.”

“What? What are you talking about? Christmas break starts in another week, and we’re going home then.”

Angelica sat down on her own bed. “I got this really weird call from Dad,” she said, looking from Eliza to John and back again. “You should hear this too, John.” She hesitated for a minute, as if trying to get her thoughts together. “When Dad called, I thought it was just a normal call, you know, hi, how are you, how are classes going. He doesn’t usually call during the day because he never knows when we might be in class, but that wasn’t that big a deal, right?”

Eliza was watching her closely. “Right. So what’s up?”

Angelica frowned. “I’m not sure. He started talking about how much Mom misses us, and how we should come home more often.”

“That’s weird,” Eliza said. “We were just home for Thanksgiving, and it’s only three weeks between Thanksgiving break and Christmas break.”

“I know. Plus, Mom and Dad never go on about how much they miss us in the way he was talking. You know, really exaggerated, Mom is so sad, and Peggy hardly ever sees us, and Katie has changed so much we won’t even know her. It was just totally unlike him.”

Eliza looked worried. “Ange, there’s something wrong. Something he couldn’t talk about over the phone.”

Angelica nodded. “I know.”

“I could drive you up today,” John offered. “We’d get there by dinnertime if we left now, stay over, come back early in the morning.”

“No,” Angelica said flatly. “There was more. As soon as I realized something was going on, I suggested that. I can’t remember what I said, something like, ‘Maybe John or Alex could drive us up so we can get there sooner.’ That’s when it got really weird.”

“What do you mean?” John asked.

“As soon as I mentioned your names, Dad acted all mad. Wanted to know if we were still hanging around with you after he had told us not to, and we’d better get home so he could talk to us about the kinds of friends we have.”

Eliza turned pale. “But …”

John understood it better. “Shit,” he muttered. “I’d better call Alex.”

“What’s going on?” Eliza asked. “Why would Dad say that? He and Mom adore both of you.”

John leaned over and put his hand on hers. “I know that. He’s trying to warn us. Something has happened, and he’s saying you two need to get to Albany, but Alex and I need to stay away.” He looked at Eliza’s face and wanted to put his arms around her again, but that was going to have to wait. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll be okay.”

 _Sweetheart?_ Angelica thought.

John got out his phone to call Alex.

*          *          *          *          *

Semester exams would be the following week, so they all had plenty of studying to do and somehow managed to get most of it done. Herc and Alex were planning to drive to New Haven to see Elizabeth Hale on Saturday morning while Angelica and Eliza took the train up to Albany and Gil and John took Marty Middicks and Sylvia Johnson to the shooting range for practice. Danny had announced that he was coming along because he needed more practice, which wasn’t true, and that he was exempt from all his exams because he had an A average in every class. John tried to put him in his place by reminding him that he was in high school, not college, but it didn’t work. Lately, Danny had taken to reading Alex’s textbooks in his free time and then challenging Alex on fine points of constitutional law, conversations that left John bored out of his mind but that made Alex think much more favorably of Danny.

“The kid would do better on some of my exams that a lot of Poli Sci majors,” Alex told John, unfortunately in Danny’s hearing. Danny bragged about it until John suggested they practice martial arts and used it to remind the kid that he still had a lot to learn. The truth was that Danny was good at that too, though, picking it up quickly and remembering everything John told him.

“You are a pain in the ass,” John said, dropping Danny off behind the church after they’d knocked each other down repeatedly for most of the afternoon.

“You know you love me,” Danny reminded him, grinning.

They didn’t use that word much, and Danny had said it carelessly. Just for a moment, John thought of Harry and James, and wondered what it would be like to have this kind of relationship with them. Danny was probably as close as he would ever come to having a kid brother, and he was grateful for him, although he’d never put it in those words.

“Yeah,” he said now, punching Danny lightly on the shoulder, “but you’re still a pain in the ass. Go annoy Tim for a while.”

Danny got out of the car laughing, and John drove back to the apartment, grateful for what he had, trying not to think about what he’d lost.

By Saturday, everybody was on edge. Herc and Alex set out for New Haven in the Kia, which currently had Delaware tags. John seemed to have an endless supply of license plates from dozens of states, and he made sure to change them often. License plates were one thing that toll and bridge cameras captured on every shot, but if you drove a dirty white Kia over the same bridge five times with five different plates on it, there would be no record of repeated trips.

The last time they had made this trip was for Nat’s funeral. Alex didn’t know if there would be a funeral for Richard Hale, didn’t know whether they might be early or late for it. He wondered if Richard, too, would have to be buried in an unmarked grave, back in a corner of the cemetery. It was important to remember that these were the people the Movement was fighting for. There was a reason to overthrow King that really wasn’t about constitutional principles, but was about the daily lives of ordinary people like Elizabeth and Richard Hale, lives destroyed for no reason except to demonstrate power.

They got to New Haven before noon, not even sure if Elizabeth was home. Herc knocked on the door, and in a few minutes, she answered. She was wearing a bathrobe, and her hair wasn’t combed. She didn’t seem at all happy to see them, and she looked over Herc’s shoulder fearfully.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have come,” she said.

Herc took her hand. “We wanted to see you.”

She ignored him, scanning the street behind them. Finally she told Alex, “Put the car in the garage around back.” She held the door open, and Herc went in.

Alex did as she had told him, and then had the good sense to use the back door. The house seemed eerily silent, but of course there was no one there except Elizabeth and themselves, not even the uncomfortable clergyman who had conducted Nat’s funeral.

“Are you alone?” Herc was asking, still holding her hand.

“Of course I am,” she said. “They’ve labeled my sons as criminals. Who would want to be seen with me?” She closed her eyes and took a breath. “That’s not really fair. Sue Tallmadge comes by, and Mary Floyd has been here. They’re both worried about Ben. They don’t know where he is.”

“Ben’s safe,” Alex told her. “Mary and his parents have been told that, but we can’t reveal where he is.”

Elizabeth nodded slowly. “I suppose that’s best.” Her face crumpled, and she began to cry. “They won’t tell me where Billy is.”

“Bastards,” muttered Alex.

Herc put his arm around Nat’s mother. “We’re trying to find out where Billy is,” he told her, glaring at Alex over her head. “I don’t know if we can, but we’ll do our best.”

He was lying. Trying to locate one imprisoned seditionist among thousands would take hours and hours of risky hacking and was unlikely to ever be successful. Even if they found out where Billy was being held, there was virtually nothing they could do. Alex didn’t approve of misleading people in general, but he understood what Herc was doing and why. Maybe it was worth it to give this poor woman a little bit of hope when so much had been taken from her. He stayed silent.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said. “Thank you for caring what happens to him.” She suddenly seemed to realize that she wasn’t dressed, and tried to smooth her hair. “I must look awful. It hardly seems worth it to get up anymore, let alone get dressed.”

“You’ve had way too much to bear,” Herc told her. “Did you eat today?”

She shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”

“How about if I make you some toast?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. Okay if I use your kitchen?”

The faintest of smiles drifted across her face. “Of course. You go ahead, and I’ll comb my hair and get dressed.”

“Come on, Alex,” Herc said. “You can help.”

Alex followed him into the kitchen as Elizabeth went up the stairs. Herc began a quick inventory of the cupboards and turned to Alex. “We’re going to go grocery shopping after she eats something.”

“Sure.”

“There’s nobody to take care of her, Alex.” Herc’s voice was as close to tears as Alex had ever heard it. “Nobody’s mother should be alone like this.”

A sudden memory washed over Alex like a wave – a hot, bright day in Arecibo, sun streaming in the window of the shabby yellow bedroom, his mother lying on the bed, restless in the stifling air, coughing. He had scrounged all the money he could from pockets and under sofa cushions, and the small tin box where he kept whatever change he got for carrying groceries to cars at the _mercado._ When he was younger he had saved it up for _piraguas_ , but now he had taken all that he had to the _farmacia_ and bought something they told him would help with a cough. There was a little bit of money left, so he bought two lemons at the _mercado_. When he got home, he cut one up and squeezed the juice into a glass of water because his mother liked that. He watched her take the pills and drink some of the lemon water, and she ruffled his hair. _“Qué bueno, mijo, qué caballero!”_ She went to sleep after that, so those were the last understandable words he heard her say. Later, she tossed and turned and murmured things, but he never caught a clear word, and she didn’t answer him when he spoke to her. She was burning with fever, and her breathing was raspy, and finally he went for the doctor, even though she had forbidden him to, and they took her away.

His poor, pretty, helpless mother, with her big brown eyes and her bad judgment about men, and her unfailing belief that Alex could do anything. What if she had been left alone like Elizabeth Hale?

Nat’s mother was nothing like his own mother, but for now at least, she needed someone to take care of her. Herc was right. They weren’t going to abandon her, no matter what the General said.

*          *          *          *          *

Angelica and Eliza took an early morning train to Albany, not talking much on the way. Eliza had said nothing to her sister about John. Angelica was already unhappy about her involvement with Alex; there was no way she could explain what had happened with John, even to herself. Strangely, it didn’t upset her to think of it. When she and Alex had made love, she had been distressed afterward, feeling guilty and dishonest. This was different. Was that because John knew how she felt about Alex and was okay with it? All she could be sure of was that remembering how John’s hands and mouth felt made her want to do it again. _I probably need a few sessions with a good therapist,_ she told herself impatiently.

When they pulled into the station in Albany, Philip was waiting for them, but without his usual welcoming smile. His face was serious. “We’re going to go get coffee,” he said.

He drove to a busy Starbucks at some distance from the train station, and far from the state buildings where he would be well-known. This was an up-and-coming neighborhood, and the Starbucks was mostly filled with young moms and babies in strollers. They were unlikely to know who Philip Schuyler was, especially since he was wearing jeans with a plaid jacket and a baseball cap.

“Dad, what the hell is going on?” Angelica asked as soon as they got seated.

“I’m so sorry I had to upset you when I called,” her father began. “I hope you know I didn’t mean what I said about Alex and John.”

“Of course, but why did you have to say it?”

“Phil!” called the barista. Nobody ever referred to Philip Schuyler as Phil. He got up to get their drinks and Angelica and Eliza looked at one another.

“All right,” he said, giving them their coffee and sitting back down. “Your mother knows everything I’m going to tell you, of course, but Peggy doesn’t, and we’d rather keep it that way.”

“Are you being overprotective again, Dad?” Angelica asked.

Philip didn’t smile. “Maybe, but the less Peggy knows, the less she could tell if someone asked her. It’s safer for her.”

A chill went through Eliza. “Need to know,” she said.

Her father nodded. “Yes. How do you know about that?”

“Alex uses it sometimes,” she responded with a wave of her hand, as if she didn’t fully understand it.

Philip looked at her seriously for a moment, but then went on. “Last Tuesday, the police officers – Greaters – came to the house while I was at work and Peggy was at school. Your mother was home alone with the baby.”

“What happened?” Angelica asked, feeling as if the bottom of her stomach had dropped out.

“They questioned her at length about someone named Martha Manning. No, don’t!” he held up his hand as Angelica opened her mouth to speak. “Your mother had never heard of Martha Manning. Neither have I, and I think it’s better if it stays that way.”

Angelica bit her lip and nodded, understanding and hating that she understood.

“When your mother said that she had no idea who Martha Manning was, they just continued to question her. They asked if she had ever been to New York City, which was a ridiculous question. She was entirely truthful with them. She said that we have two daughters attending Columbia, so of course we’ve been to New York, not to mention that we’d gone there on weekend visits from the time you girls were small. She got the impression that this Martha Manning probably lives in New York, but we don’t know that for sure, as we don’t know anything about her. They also asked your mother about a coffee shop in New York, but she didn’t recognize the name of it.”

Angelica and Eliza were both silent, but Eliza distinctly remembered discussing Betsy’s with her parents when Alex and John were there, and Alex asking for the recipe for Catherine’s raisin bread to give Betsy. Of course, it was possible that Catherine didn’t remember that. But why on earth were the police questioning her mother about Patty?

Philip continued talking. “After that, they brought up the name Alexander Hamilton. Of course, your mother couldn’t deny knowing him. After all, he’d been here for a visit. She did make it clear, though, that he’d only visited once, and she may have given the impression that she didn’t much care for him.” His expression suddenly changed, as he smiled affectionately. “Your mother is … amazing.” He was quiet for a minute, then he returned to his obviously practiced recital. “They also asked her about John Laurens, and she acknowledged that she knew him, but simply as a friend of Alex Hamilton’s.” Philip stopped again, and he looked from Angelica to Eliza and back again, His mouth was twisted, and he was trying to get control of his emotion. He swallowed, then looked over his shoulder and around the coffee shop. There was no one near them. He leaned in as close as he could to his daughters. “You must know how hard it was for your mother not to reveal her affection for Alex and John,” he said in a low voice. “It hurt her very much to speak of them as if she barely knew them.”

Eliza started to cry, and her father shook his head at her, and pushed some napkins across the table. She turned aside to wipe her eyes and blow her nose and then turned back, giving her father a quick nod to continue.

“The Greaters didn’t ask about anything else, although they repeated the questions several times in different ways. They were very persistent about Martha Manning, in particular. They even implied that she might be in our house, and Catherine told them they were free to search. Of course they found nothing suspicious, and they finally left.”

“They haven’t been back?” Angelica asked.

“No. We haven’t discussed this with anyone, and we don’t intend to. That includes Peggy. If she’s ever asked about Martha Manning, she can answer honestly that she’s never heard of her. I’m sure you understand that. In fact, Peggy doesn’t even know that you’re here. That’s why I’m telling you this in a Starbucks instead of at home. I’m going to put you on the next train back to New York.” He stopped again and cleared his throat. “Please tell Alex and John how very sorry we will be not to be able to see them at Christmas.”

It had been a long time since they had seen their father on the verge of tears. Eliza knew how painful it was for her parents to exclude Alex and John from the family Christmas. She also knew that they were doing it to protect themselves and their daughters. Alex and John would be sad, but not angry. They would understand why Philip and Catherine had made their decision.

Philip took Angelica’s hand in his left and Eliza’s in his right. He held them tightly. “We won’t talk about this again. You’ll come home in a week for Christmas, and we’ll have a nice holiday. I’m sure Alex and John will have a good reason for not being able to join us.” He tightened his grip on their hands. “I’m so sorry, girls. I love you, and I wish I could make it all better, the way I could when you were little.”

He looked at the watch he still wore every day. “We should go,” he told them, dropping their hands and standing up. “If you get back to Columbia quickly enough, probably no one will even notice you were gone.” He looked at them quizzically. “Did you mention to anyone that you were coming to Albany?”

Angelica linked her arm through his as they went back to the car. “We only told two friends, Dad. Two people that you know we can trust.”

Philip nodded. “Good people,” he said. “Very good people.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a lot of emotion in this chapter, so we may all need a rest now.  
> What in the world is going on with John and Eliza? More to the point, what's going to happen next?  
> Is Alex really going to try to find out where Billy Hale is?  
> Why did the Greaters question Catherine Schuyler about Patty?  
> Bonus points for anyone who caught the line from "in the Heights" in this chapter. I don't mean the piragua reference; there's a whole line lifted verbatim from the show (sorry, Lin, but it's not plagiarism if I tell them, right?).  
> Extra, extra bonus points if somebody gets the paraphrase from one of the songs on Anthony Ramos's EP "Freedom." It's not word-for-word, but it's pretty close, and of course it's John who says it, since it's Anthony's song.  
> It might be a while before the next chapter is up as I have STUFF coming up for the next few days, where I will have to leave my desk and go out amongst the other humans, and even do a speaking thing, so ... must take care of the grown-up making-a-living activities.  
> I will be back as soon as I can because I too want to find out where the John-and-Eliza thing is going, and I am very concerned about the Greaters visiting Catherine Schuyler. Until then, thank you for reading this, and please tell me what you think of it. <3


	57. Shoulder Every Burden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone is giving information to the Greaters. Those who can be ruled out become the "inner circle," and they can trust no one else. There is a new tension between Eliza and John. Gil, John, and Danny try to teach Marty and Sylvia to shoot. John persuades Gil to attend Christmas service at St. Dismas with the rest of them. John and Alex host Christmas dinner.

Alex and Herc went to a grocery store in Hamden, a few miles away from New Haven and a big enough town in its own right that a couple of ordinary-looking guys in jeans and sweatshirts wouldn’t be noticed. They came back and filled Elizabeth’s freezer and pantry with frozen dinners, canned soup, and other things that would be easy for her to prepare. She tried to give them money and cried when they refused it.

“If my mom needed help and I wasn’t around,” Herc said, holding both her hands, “I would expect my friends to step up. Nat was our friend. We’re just doing what he would have done for any of us.”

“We’ll be back,” Alex promised. “Not every week and not on any schedule because we’ll be careful, but we won’t forget.”

Elizabeth hugged both of them. “I’m glad Nat knew you,” she told them tearfully.

Herc patted her on the back. “Now listen, Mama, you have to eat every day even if you don’t think you’re hungry, okay?”

She nodded. “I will.”

“There will be bad days,” Alex said, “but when they come, think about what Nat would want you to do. Remember that we’re going to do what Nat would do for our moms if the situation were reversed, so you have to listen to us.”

That even made her smile faintly.

Alex gave her Tim’s church office number. “You can call this any time. If no one answers, leave a message for Pastor Tim. He’ll get word to us. That way you don’t have to worry about phone calls being traced. Nat knew Tim, and he sang in a church concert, so you have good reasons to talk to Tim.”

Her smile grew a little brighter. “Nat sang in a concert?” she asked. “He used to sing in the school choir.”

“He sang to Patty, too,” Alex told her. “We thought he was pretty good.”

“He was,” she said, her eyes filling again. “I’m glad Patty got to hear him sing.” She took a minute to get her voice under control. “Patty’s safe, isn’t she?”

“Yes. I can’t tell you where she is, but she’s in a place where we’re confident that she and the baby will be fine. She’s with good people who will take care of her, and hopefully, we’ll get messages from time to time. I’ll tell you as much as I can.”

She threw her arms around him again. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” She turned to Herc and kissed his cheek. “You’re good boys, just like Nat was.”

*          *          *          *          *

Angelica and Eliza talked as little as possible on the train back to New York. They knew they couldn’t discuss what their father had told them, and neither of them could think about anything else. Angelica gave a sigh of relief as she finally closed the door to their dorm room.

“We should tell Alex right away,” she said. “Not because of Christmas, but because the Greaters know his name.”

Eliza nodded. “And John’s. And why in the world would they go to our house looking for Patty? That makes no sense at all.”

Angelica sat down on her bed. “Actually, I think it might.”

“What do you mean?” Eliza hung their coats up and checked the time. There was no point in trying to talk to Alex until evening since he and Herc would be in New Haven for most of the day. She sat down in the desk chair, her eyes on Angelica.

“Anybody who knows Patty knows that we’re friends, right? I mean, she asked me to be her maid of honor in front of everybody.”

“Well, sure, but that was just our friends, just people in the Movement.” Eliza’s face went still and she gasped. “Ange, you don’t think one of us …?”

“No,” Angelica assured her. “No, of course not, but I think it’s possible that someone talked carelessly. What if somebody asked if Patty knew me, just something like, _‘Oh, I saw Angelica Schuyler talking to Patty Manning at Betsy’s. Are they friends?’_ What if it was a casual acquaintance? Wouldn’t it be perfectly normal to answer, _‘Yeah, they’re really close’_ without even thinking about it?”

Eliza bit her lip. “God, Ange, do we have to be afraid of everybody?”

“I don’t know,” her sister said, “but until we know how information is getting around, we’d better keep everything to ourselves.”

“But Alex? John? What about them?”

“I think right now they’re the only ones we can absolutely trust because whoever is passing information is trying to get them in trouble.”

“You can’t think Herc or Gil would …”

Angelica stood up and started pacing. “I can’t think _anybody_ would!” she snapped. “I spent the whole train ride racking my brain about who might share information carelessly. Betsy, chatting with a customer? Danny, talking to somebody he plays basketball with? I don’t _know,_ Eliza, that’s what I’m trying to say. I have no fucking idea.” Her voice broke and she rubbed at her eyes angrily.

Eliza jumped up and put her arms around her sister. “We’ll talk to Alex and John tonight. We’ll make sure we’re all really, really careful so it won’t happen again.”

Angelica didn’t relax. “What if it’s worse?” she whispered. “What if somebody is passing on information deliberately?”

*          *          *          *          *

Gil had made one stop on the way home from the shooting range so he could buy a bottle of wine. He made a careful selection and then headed to John’s apartment to share it with him, since he felt both of them deserved a drink after a day spent trying to teach Marty Middicks and Sylvia Johnson to shoot. Having Danny along had made it both better and worse – better because Danny kept making them laugh, worse because he kept making them laugh at Marty and Sylvia. He had no idea what John was planning for dinner, but even if it was pizza from Cenzo’s, the burgundy would be a welcome accompaniment.

As it turned out, John had put a pot roast in the crock pot early in the morning, and was now making mashed potatoes to go with it. Danny was hanging around the kitchen bugging him about how much longer it would be until dinner, and John was trying to find something for Danny to do.

“Why don’t you set the table?” he asked.

Danny looked at him in disbelief. “We never set the table.”

“We could start,” John muttered, stepping around Danny to get the butter out of the fridge. He grabbed a bag of salad and tossed it on the counter. “Open that and put it in a bowl.”

Gil ignored them and got two glasses out of the cupboard, then opened the wine and poured it. He handed a glass to John.

“Don’t I get any?” Danny asked.

Gil took a sip of the burgundy, savored it for a minute, then asked Danny, “How old are you?”

“Weren’t you just at my birthday party? You know how old I am.”

“Mm. And what is the legal drinking age in this country?”

“I know, I know, twenty-one. I just thought that since we ignore a whole lot of other laws all the time, you guys might bend this one a little. Besides, John’s not twenty-one yet, and you gave him a glass.”

Gil didn’t answer him, but turned to John. “In France, he would have a small glass of wine with dinner at the age of sixteen.”

“Whatever,” John said, taking the lid off the crockpot. “We’re in New York. And dinner’s ready, so help yourselves.”

They filled plates and took them to the table, where Danny pushed his luck by bringing the subject up again. “You know, in Italy and Germany, the drinking age is sixteen.”

“Jesus, how do you know these things?” John asked. “You’re as bad as Alex.”

“I’m just saying that setting the age at twenty-one is arbitrary, not logical.”

John concentrated on his pot roast, and Danny turned to Gil with a hopeful expression.

“Have you ever actually had a drink?” Gil asked.

“Duh. Of course.”

Gil continued to look at him. “Go on,” he said. “When, where, et cetera …”

Danny started to look uncomfortable. “I had a beer after a football game.”

Gil nodded. “And …?”

Danny shrugged and looked down. “That’s it, actually.”

He could have lied, Gil thought. Danny didn’t lie to them, though. “John,” he said, “I’m going to give Danny a small taste of wine. We have, as he points out, broken a great many other laws, and he’s right that the age limit is arbitrary. The only condition is that he tells Tim, either now, or as soon as he gets home.”

“Fair enough,” John agreed. He wasn’t sure if Danny would go along with it or not, but he knew that if he promised he’d tell Tim, he would do it.

Danny considered for a minute. “I’ll call Tim now.” He left the room with his phone and John asked Gil, “You think this is a good idea?”

Gil shrugged. “Who knows? But he’s too exhausting to argue with.”

After a few minutes, Danny returned and handed Gil his phone.

“How much?” Tim asked.

“A couple of teaspoons. He’s dying to know what it tastes like, but I don’t think he’s planning to overdo it. Anyway, we wouldn’t let him. We gave him the option to tell you afterward, and he chose to call you first, so that says something.”

He could hear the smile in Tim’s voice. “Yeah. Go ahead. I don’t want to make a big deal out of it, and he’s got some common sense.”

Gil got another glass and splashed a bit of wine in it. He handed it to Danny. “This is burgundy, a red wine. It’s from a region of France called Bourgogne, which is north of Auvergne, where I am from. You should always pay attention to where the wine comes from, because the soil and climate affect the taste.”

John was rolling his eyes, but Danny listened closely, took a sip of the wine, thought about it, and took another sip.

“What do you think?” Gil asked.

Danny shrugged. “It’s okay, I guess. I thought it would be sweeter.”

Gil shook his head. “One does not drink sweet wine with dinner,” he stated firmly. “In fact, in France …”

He didn’t get a chance to finish because Alex walked in, and John greeted him with relief.

“Thank God,” he said. “Please come rescue me. Gil’s giving Danny a lecture on the history of French wine.”

Gil looked over his shoulder at Alex. _“Il exagère.”_

“Danny’s drinking wine?”

“Just tasting it,” Danny told him, “and Tim knows.”

Alex threw up his hands. “Okay. What smells so good?”

“Pot roast,” John told him. “Get a plate and come eat.”

Alex tossed his jacket on the couch, filled his plate, and joined them at the table. “How’d the shooting lesson go?” he asked.

There was a brief silence, and then Gil said very seriously, “Neither Marty nor Sylvia exhibited a natural talent for shooting.” He looked up at John, and they both started laughing.

“Could not hit the broad side of a fucking barn,” John declared.

“Weren’t sure which end of the gun the bullets came out of,” Danny added.

“That bad?”

“So bad,” John said. “I mean, we _practiced_. We reviewed every single thing there is to know. Neither one of them got it at all.”

“Sylvia thinks it is necessary to scream as she pulls the trigger,” Gil said. “It became _very_ annoying.”

Danny grinned. “Gil said a lot of things in French today, but he wouldn’t tell me what they meant.”

Alex scooped up some mashed potatoes and took a bite, then looked from Gil to John. “So what you’re saying is that they’ll need a lot more practice?”

“Oh, come on,” John said. “How about we just make sure they have other responsibilities?”

“Can’t.” Alex swallowed another bite. “We don’t have enough people yet to limit them to only one thing. I mean, you make IDs, but you also shoot. Danny handles electronics, but he’s pretty good with forgery, and he can shoot. Gil’s our best sniper, but he also does first aid. We all have to do everything, at least for now.”

John sighed, “Okay, I get it, but next time you and Angelica take them to the shooting range.”

Alex looked surprised for a minute, and then laughed. “That’s fair.”

“You won’t think that after you’ve heard Sylvia scream fifteen times,” Gil told him, draining his wine glass.

*          *          *          *          *

Gil had taken Danny home, the kitchen was cleaned up, and Alex was lying on the couch with his head in John’s lap when his phone chimed. He made a face. “I don’t want to talk to anybody.”

John picked up his phone from the end table and looked at the screen. “It’s Angelica.”

“Shit.” He opened the phone to read the text: _Eliza & I on our way over. Have to talk._

He frowned and showed it to John. “Why are they back from Albany already?”

John shook his head. “I don’t know, but whatever Philip wanted to talk to them about must be important.”

Alex sat up and pulled John in for a kiss. “And here I was hoping for an early night.”

“Maybe they won’t stay long.”

“Maybe you should make some coffee.”

“We’re out of coffee, and I’m not going to the fucking Have grocery store again, so I’ll make tea.”

Alex rubbed his eyes. “It’s already been a long day. I’m going to take a shower before they get here. Maybe it will wake me up.”

“C’mere,” John said, pulling Alex close. He ran his fingers through Alex’s hair, long enough now to cover his ears and the nape of his neck, and cradled his head. “I love you,” he whispered and leaned in for a long kiss. Then he turned Alex around and gave him a gentle push. “Go.”

When Alex came back to the living room, Angelica and Eliza were sitting there with John, drinking tea and looking worried.

John looked up. “You’re not going to like this,” he said.

Angelica related everything Philip had told them, with Alex interrupting every few sentences to ask a question. If Alex had been sleepy before, he was wide-awake now, pacing and swearing as Angelica went over the information again.

“So there’s no doubt the Greaters know you and Patty are friends,” he said.

“There doesn’t seem to be,” Angelica responded.

“And how would they know that?”

“It was never a secret.”

“No, but someone would have to be looking for specific information.”

“Why Angelica and not Deb or Mark?” Eliza asked suddenly.

Alex stopped pacing and looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“Well, they arrested Patty’s mother – or at least, I guess they did, since nobody has heard anything from her. They took Patty’s boss in for questioning. Who else would know where she was? Her friends, obviously. But why didn’t they question Deb or Mark? She’s worked with them almost every day for months. She and Angelica only got to be close after Patty and Nat were picked up that time in Pennsylvania. Not everybody realized that, though.” She stopped for a minute to see what they’d say.

“Go on,” Alex told her.

“To a casual observer, Patty spent more time with Deb or Mark than she did with Angelica. Only the people who know her well would know that she and Angelica were really close friends. So how did the Greaters get the idea that she might be hiding out in Albany?”

“Oh, shit,” Alex said, “you’re right.”

“I don’t want to be right about this,” Eliza responded, her voice shaky.

Angelica put her arm around her sister. “It could still be just a casual acquaintance who happened to notice something.”

John shook his head. “No. Why would a casual acquaintance go tell the Greaters such a trivial thing? Somebody went to them after Patty went into hiding, giving them what they thought was solid information: Patty’s best friend is Angelica Schuyler, maybe she’s hiding at the Schuylers’ house up in Albany.” He stood up, whirled around, and punched the wall. “ _Fuck!_ ”

Alex got to him in time to prevent him from punching the wall again, pulled him down to sit on the floor, then looked at Eliza imploringly. She slid down next to John, took both his hands in hers and held on tight while Alex went to get him a glass of cold water, and John continued to curse fluently in two languages. “Goddam mother-fucking _pendejo_ traitor,” he said through his teeth.

Eliza cautiously let go of one hand to put hers against his cheek. “Maybe not,” she whispered. “Maybe we put two and two together and got five.”

John turned his face into her palm, put his own hand over hers and held it there, taking deep breaths. She felt his lips move against her palm, and her eyes met his, green as deep water with flecks of gold. He held her gaze a little longer, then dropped his hand back to his lap. She realized she had been clutching his other hand so tightly that her nails had left little crescents deep in his skin. She let go, and he looked down and smiled faintly, rubbing the back of his hand.

Alex brought him the glass of ice water and brushed a curl off his forehead. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” John threw his head back to lean against the couch. “Pissed as hell, though.”

“We could be wrong,” Alex said. He looked to where John had punched the wall. The angel picture now hung askew, but there was no damage. “Last time you did that, you put a hole in the wall.”

“Yeah. I’ve gotten better at controlling my temper.”

Alex snorted. “You should apologize to Gabriel for knocking him sideways.”

John got up and straightened the picture, then stood looking at it silently for a minute. He sat back down on the floor next to Eliza and drank some of the water. He turned to Alex. “You think we’re wrong?”

“No,” Alex said. “I think somebody in the Movement is betraying us.”

Eliza grabbed John’s hands again, but he wasn’t going anywhere. He nodded. “What are we going to do about it?”

“First thing in the morning, I’m calling the General. We’ll take his advice. Other than that, we keep this quiet. What we know for sure is that we can trust Gil, Herc, Danny, and Tim. They and the four of us knew Patty was at the church and then that she went to France. That’s eight people in the inner circle. Nobody else gets any information. Some people are going to be unhappy with that, and I don’t blame them, but that’s the way it is. We’re not going to tell them why. We just say that we have orders to tighten security. We always keep in mind, inner circle, outer circle. We have to make that distinction with every communication.”

John nodded. “Need to know, but on every single thing.”

“Yeah.”

“Dad talked about that,” Angelica said. “He wanted to be sure we didn’t say anything to Peggy.”

“That’s smart,” Alex agreed.

Angelica turned away for a moment and sniffed. “Dad said to tell both of you that he and Mom are really sorry about Christmas. They’ll miss you.” He voice broke and she got up impatiently and went into the bathroom.

Alex went into the kitchen to see if there was any more tea, and John leaned close to Eliza. “Look,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath in her ear. He held out his hand, where the red crescents from her nails were still clearly visible. “You marked me.”

Her breath caught, and she felt that current run through her again. John was smiling, his mouth still close to her ear. “I like it,” he told her.

*          *          *          *          *

Eliza felt all week as though she was looking over her shoulder. When she went to Betsy’s she tried to be her usual friendly self, but a voice inside her head was asking, _Is it Deb? Mark? Johnny?_ Then she would tell herself not to be ridiculous, that of course it couldn’t be any of them, and her mind would start racing again: _Johan? Nate Pendleton? Joe Allicocke? Kat Livingston?_

She was getting headaches, and it was exam week, and Christmas was going to be strained because the whole family would miss having Alex and John there. In the meantime, they were still getting reports of fighting in just about every city. Statistics were impossible to check, but they knew from Headquarters that Nat wasn’t the only member of the Movement who had lost his life.

She sat across from Angelica in the cafeteria, trying to eat a salad, but she had no appetite.

Angelica watched her silently for a few minutes, then said, “You didn’t have anything but tea for breakfast.”

Her sister shrugged. “You know I don’t always eat breakfast.”

“Yeah, but when you don’t, you eat lunch. All you’ve done so far is poke that salad with a fork like you’re mad at it.”

Eliza smiled reluctantly. “I’m kind of mad at everything right now.”

Angelica nodded. “Me too. All of us, probably, but you should still eat lunch.”

Eliza put a bite of lettuce in her mouth and chewed. “What do you think Christmas will be like?”

“It’ll be fine.”

Eliza raised an eyebrow. “You sound like Dad. It’ll be fine, everything will be fine, nothing to worry about.”

“Come on, he really didn’t act like that. He let us know something was wrong. He just doesn’t see any point in upsetting Peggy if he doesn’t have to. And honestly, he’s right on that. Peggy doesn’t need to know, and telling her can’t help anybody.”

“I know. It’s just – like I said, I’m mad at everything.” She took another bite of salad before Angelica could order her to. “What do you think Alex and John are going to do for Christmas?” she asked, keeping her eyes on her plate.

“Go to Herc’s probably, or maybe put up a tree in the apartment and have their own celebration. You could ask them.” Angelica sounded exasperated.

Eliza didn’t respond, but at least she was eating her salad. If Angelica had been completely honest, she had mixed feelings about Alex and John not joining her family for Christmas. Not that she didn’t love them both – she did, but it was better if Eliza didn’t spend any more time than necessary with Alex, especially in the relaxed atmosphere of the Schuyler home. There probably wasn’t a thing anybody could do to change Eliza’s feelings for Alex, and nobody really had a right to try, but she could at least hope that Eliza might come to realize that a relationship with him could never bring her anything but heartache. She took a bite of her sandwich and changed the subject. “How have your exams been so far?”

“Okay, I guess. At least, I don’t think I’ve failed any. Two more and I’m done.” She knew Angelica only had one more exam, so they would leave for Albany on Friday. There wouldn’t be any chance before then to talk to John or … well, to talk to John. She was still trying to identify her feelings for him and to figure out his for her. When she was around him, she could almost feel sparks going off; if Alex was in the same room, it was much more complicated, and she had been having some thoughts about the two of them – actually the _three_ of them – that left her feeling deeply embarrassed and just as deeply aroused.

They were definitely _not_ thoughts that she should be having while eating lunch with her sister. Dammit, just having them come randomly to her mind now made her heart beat faster, and she felt a hot blush start in her chest and flood her face. She kept her head down, hoping Angelica wouldn’t notice. No such luck.

“You okay?” Angelica asked. “Your face is red. You don’t have a fever, do you?”

“Mm-mm,” Eliza responded, gulping down some water. “The dressing’s a little spicy.” That was lame, since the cafeteria food was notoriously bland, but it was the best she could do.

Fortunately, Angelica’s phone chimed, and she was distracted. “Shit,” she muttered, reading the text. “It’s Peggy. She wants to know why John and Alex aren’t coming for Christmas.”

*          *          *          *          *

Herc’s family always spent Christmas with Veronica’s brother and his family in Newark, so Alex and John were trying to figure out some plans of their own.

“It’s no big deal,” Alex said. “We’ll have a nice dinner and exchange presents, and … I don’t know, listen to some Christmas music, maybe?”

The Laurens family had always had very elaborate holiday celebrations, of course. They weren’t necessarily fun, but they were certainly fancy. John didn’t long for the kind of event his father had arranged, but he did feel that something festive was required. “What’s Gil doing?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Alex shrugged. “Probably some embassy thing.”

As it turned out, though, the Embassy was not hosting its customary Christmas gala this year. Embassy staff would have a small private party, but so many people were fearful about being seen attending a party given by a foreign government that Monsieur Gérard had decided that it would be prudent to simply cancel the soirée.

“Imagine,” Gil said to John on the phone, “residents of New York are so frightened to be associated with the French government that they cannot even attend a dinner. They are afraid it will bring the attention of Director Loring on them.”

“Are you saying Loring is watching the embassy?” John asked, putting the phone on speaker so Alex could hear.

“That would seem to be the case,” Gil responded. The phones were secure, but it was still better not to make definitive statements.

“You should come here for Christmas dinner, then,” John told him. “I’ll make pie.”

Alex was looking a little uneasy when John hung up. “We’re hosting Christmas dinner?”

“Sure, why not? I’ll see if Tim and Danny can come.”

“We don’t have any nice dishes,” Alex reminded him.

“I was thinking paper plates,” John said, and Alex gave a sigh of relief.

Tim said he and Danny would be delighted to come for dinner, but of course, he had a Christmas church service in the morning that they were all invited to attend. John recklessly accepted the invitation for all of them, and then spent half an hour arguing with Gil.

“Why would I go to church?” Gil asked in exasperation. “I don’t believe in any of it.”

“But you celebrate Christmas, right?”

“Yes,” Gil replied cautiously, knowing where this was going.

“Christmas is a religious holiday.”

“The origins of it may be religious, but the celebration is not. The Christmas tree, the stockings, Santa Claus, they have nothing to do with baby Jesus.”

“Yeah, but it’s all good stuff, right? Happy stuff? Everybody likes presents.”

“Yes,” Gil admitted, looking wary.

“Well, God loves everybody, right? So he wants us to be happy, so we do happy stuff at Christmas, so that’s why it’s a religious holiday.” John finished with a triumphant grin.

“That is by far the worst theology I have ever heard,” Gil told him.

“But you’ll still go to church, right? Alex is going, and I don’t think he’s any more of a believer than you are.”

“You are wrong on that, _mon frère_ , Alex is more of a believer than even he knows.” He sighed. “Fine. I will go to Tim’s church on one condition.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“I will bring wine to dinner. Probably a lot of wine.”

“Done.”

They were surprised on Christmas Day to find the church not even half full. Despite the greenery hung around the windows and the crèche in front of the altar, the atmosphere seemed subdued. Alice played carols on the piano and the congregation sang, but not enthusiastically. Although Tim preached a good sermon on receiving gifts, the people in the pews were inattentive. At the end of the service, they all were in a hurry to leave.

Alex questioned Tim about it over dinner. “What’s going on? Where was everybody?”

“Attendance is down,” Tim responded vaguely.

Danny shot him a sharp glance. “Tell them,” he said.

Tim shook his head.

“What the hell’s going on?” Alex asked. “Come on, Tim, don’t keep stuff from us. We’re all on the same side.”

Tim cut up some chicken on his plate and thought about it. “You guys have enough to deal with.”

“Fuck that,” John snapped. “What is it?”

“Church members have been receiving letters warning them that St. Dismas supports the Movement. They say the offering money goes to fund sedition, that sort of thing.” His face was tired. “Of course not everybody believes it, but you know how it can be.”

“Tell them the rest,” Danny said, his voice uncharacteristically bitter.

Tim looked at him affectionately. “It doesn’t matter.”

“The fuck it doesn’t,” Danny snapped.

John grabbed Danny’s arm. “Yo, watch your mouth. You don’t talk to Tim like that.”

Danny bit his lip, looking like he might cry. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t even be talking about all this sh – stuff on Christmas.” He got up and went to the kitchen for more water.

Gil turned to Tim. “What can we do to help?”

Tim shrugged. “I can’t think of anything, really. Of course, I tell everyone it’s not true. Whatever my personal feelings might be, every penny of church funds is accounted for, and anyone is welcome to check the books.”

“What’s the rest of it?” John asked.

Danny came back to the table and waited expectantly for Tim. “If you don’t tell them, I will.”

Tim sighed and spoke in a flat, detached voice. “There have been letters to parents about the danger of having their children around me. The letters imply that my relationship with Danny is not a healthy one.”

John jumped to his feet. “Fuck that! Who’s writing this shit?”

“I don’t know,” Tim said wearily. “Anyway, we knew months ago that there might be some speculation about Danny and me.”

“But you didn’t expect your church members to take it seriously,” Alex pointed out.

“Things change,” Tim said. “It’s been mostly since Loring has been Director of Public Safety. A lot of people have left the church.” He paused and did his best to get his voice under control. “I’m in this job to try to do good in my community. Some days it’s hard not to get discouraged.”

Alex gripped Tim’s hand. “How come you didn’t tell us?”

“There was so much going on. You already had enough to worry about.”

“Tim, we’re your friends.”

Tim nodded. “I know. I should have said something.”

“Didn’t you preach a sermon this morning about receiving gifts?” Gil asked. “About how sometimes it’s harder to receive than to give because we think we should handle everything ourselves?”

Tim raised his eyebrows. “Did I say that?”

“You did. So let me ask you something frankly. With a much smaller congregation, is there still enough money for your salary?”

Danny glanced at Tim, then at the floor, but stayed quiet while Tim spoke. “You know, after the attack on the church, we received a very generous gift that allowed us to do repairs and renovation, and there was even some money left over.”

Gil continued to look at him. “That does not answer my question.”

“I’m still fine even if I cut back on my salary a little,” Tim declared.

Gil turned to Danny. “Can you give me a straight answer?”

Danny glanced at Tim again, but Tim’s face was impassive, so he squared his shoulders and faced Gil. “He took half pay in October and November and nothing at all this month.”

John leaned across the table. “Jesus God Almighty, Tim! What were you thinking, not coming to us for help?”

Tim finally smiled. “First, I hope that was a prayer, and second, I guess I’m guilty of the sin of pride, thinking I could handle everything myself.”

“It was a prayer,” John told him, “and I wish you could remember that Gil and I have money that we don’t need.”

“I hate to …”

“Oh, for the love of God, shut up,” Alex yelled. “Also a prayer, by the way. Tomorrow, John and Gil will talk to you in your office and work something out. Now can we please have some pie? It’s fucking Christmas!”

Tim put his head in his hands, and Danny finally grinned, looking like himself again. “Hey, Rev, you know how you say sometimes things that seem bad actually have blessings hidden in them?”

“Yeah,” Tim nodded.

“Well, just think, as difficult as all this was to talk about, something was revealed that you would never have known.”

“What do you mean?”

Danny shot a look to his right, where Gil was seated. “You found out Gil actually paid attention to the sermon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Director Loring will cause trouble for our guys. It looks like somebody is giving him information. Are you, like Eliza, trying to figure out who it could be?  
> When are Eliza and John going to get some uninterrupted time to ... erm ...talk?  
> Tim is a good guy, but will he be able to stay on as pastor of St. Dismas?  
> I'm beginning to feel like there are bad guys around every corner.  
> Thanks for reading this story, and thanks for the kudos and comments. I always love hearing what you think.


	58. Outgunned, Outmanned, Outnumbered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody lies. Everybody keeps secrets. Some lies and secrets are to protect, some are to entrap. The government cracks down harder. and the Movement changes strategy to fight an overwhelming enemy. Information from the General, from TJ, and from Crazy Tony keeps everybody off balance. Eliza makes a decision.

It wasn’t that Christmas in Albany was all that different from past Christmases. Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy baked cookies with their mother. The stockings that their grandmother had made hung at the fireplace, and the tree was decorated with lots of ornaments. They even had the fun of watching Katie’s eyes grow wide as she stared at the colored lights. Altogether, nothing was _wrong_ ; it just wasn’t quite right, either.

“How come we only have two pies?” Peggy asked.

“I couldn’t get enough sugar to make more. I probably should have just made one. We don’t have any sugar for coffee now.”

“Why are sugar and copy paper so hard to get? If the Movement has to destroy something, why don’t they destroy things like cauliflower?”

Philip sighed. “The point of a political resistance is to make things difficult. I doubt if causing a cauliflower shortage would inspire many people to action.”

Peggy took another bite of cherry pie. “Well, I hope it’s all over by next Christmas, so things can be back to normal, and maybe John and Alex can be here.” She looked up at Angelica. “Don’t get me wrong, it was really nice of them to volunteer at the homeless shelter, but I was looking forward to seeing them.”

Philip had come up with the story that John and Alex were spending the holiday helping in a shelter. It was plausible, because as more and more Deplos fell deeper and deeper into poverty, shelters were filled to capacity. Add to that the government limitations on charitable giving, and many were simply living on the street. There were lots of nights when John bought a dozen pizzas from Cenzo’s and handed them out to hungry people in alleys and under bridges. Angelica’s eyes met her father’s now as Peggy continued to eat her dessert. This wasn’t going to be over by next Christmas. Maybe it would never be over. Maybe things would never be “back to normal.”

The university had cancelled intersession and revamped its recess schedule, and classes would resume on January third. It was a short break, and Angelica and Eliza wanted more time with their family, especially Katie.

The day after Christmas, Catherine dressed the baby in a tiny pair of jeans and the pink hoodie Eliza had knitted for her so they could take pictures. “She looks like she’s all set for college,” Angelica said.

“Stop,” her mother told her. “We’re in no hurry for her to grow up.”

“That’s what you used to say about me,” Peggy remarked, but she was smiling.

“And you’re not all grown up yet,” Catherine pointed out. “You still have another year and a half of high school.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“So seriously, Peg,” Angelica said, “are you planning on applying to Columbia?”

“I haven’t decided yet, really. I mean, I know it was the best choice for you guys, political science and pre-law, but I want to be a kindergarten teacher.”

“Columbia’s got a great education department,” Eliza told her. “Besides, Angelica will graduate next year, and if you go somewhere else, I’ll be stuck rooming with somebody like Sylvia Johnson again.”

“Oh, is that it?” Peggy asked. “You want me there as bad-roommate insurance?”

“Basically, yes.”

Peggy smacked her sister on the arm and laughed. “Can you knit me a hoodie like that so Katie and I can match?” she asked.

Eliza raised her eyebrow. “Maybe when I see your completed application to Columbia.”

*          *          *          *          *

Alex had spent more than an hour on the phone with the General over three days. He gave him all the information he had, and the General agreed that it was likely that someone they trusted had been informing the Greaters. It had probably been going on as far back as early summer when Patty and Nat had been stopped in Betsy’s van.

“Break it down,” General Akhdir said over a secure phone line scrambled by TJ’s tech genius. “Who do you know for sure didn’t do it – and I mean for sure, with evidence. This is not an area where we take feelings into consideration.”

“There are eight people who knew where Patty was hidden and who knew when she was leaving for France – me. John Laurens, Herc Mulligan, Eliza and Angelica Schuyler, Lafayette, Tim Dwight, and Danny Phoenix.”

“We can count them out then. Revealing the location of a wanted seditionist would have been quite an accomplishment for somebody working for Loring. All right, you know who it wasn’t. Do you have any ideas on who it was?”

“I wish I did,” Alex responded. “I’ve been going over and over it in my mind. Whoever sent the Greaters to Albany made a good guess. Patty and Angelica are close, and it’s conceivable that she could have been there. The thing is, their friendship might be considered common knowledge.”

“It’s not only about their friendship,” the General told him impatiently. “Who would know they were friends, know Angelica Schuyler is in the Movement, and also know enough about Philip Schuyler’s politics to conclude that the Schuyler family might be sympathetic enough to take in a wanted seditionist?”

“Okay, that’s a perspective I hadn’t looked at. That might narrow it down a bit. I don’t think everybody knows that Philip Schuyler was involved in New York state politics during President Washington’s administration. That’s something to look at.”

“I also think it’s time you use some selective leaking, Alex. Disinformation. Present a fake story and see where it goes.”

“Yeah, Tony suggested that too.”

“Do it, but do it well. You’ll need to be very clever and very subtle, and you’ll need to track the information carefully to see where it goes.”

“We can do that, sir. Once everybody’s back from Christmas break, we’ll get a plan together. Do you want to sign off on it before we do it?”

“No, use your judgment. Once you’ve figured out who it is, though, I want to hear from you.”

“Absolutely.”

“One other thing, Alex. This Tim Dwight you’ve mentioned – he’s the pastor, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“He currently has a church?”

Alex frowned, puzzled. “Yes, sir.”

“In your opinion, does he solidly support the Movement?”

“Yes, sir, completely. You’re not thinking Tim might be the one who informed, are you? He was the one who offered the church as sanctuary, and …”

“No, no,” the General interrupted, “that’s not what I’m saying at all. Where does he stand on the use of military force to overthrow the government?”

“We’ve had several talks about that, actually. Tim would prefer to use nonviolent means to bring about change, but he realizes that might not be possible. He won’t take up arms himself, but he understands why we do.” Alex paused, still trying to figure out why the General was asking about Tim. “He’s a good guy, sir. I know he prays for the Movement to succeed.”

“Hm,” was all the General said.

“Sir, do you mind if I ask …” Alex began.

“Don’t bother, Alex, because I’m not going to give you any answers. Just a bit of a fishing expedition.”

Alex had to be content with that.

*          *          *          *          *

With no intersession between semesters, there were fewer opportunities for internships, independent studies, or service projects. Instead, classes resumed on January third. Angelica and Eliza came back from Albany on the second and went to Alex and John’s apartment. John had made macaroni and cheese, and over dinner, Alex caught them up on what the General had said.

“So we need a good piece of fake information to use as bait,” he told them. “It has to be significant enough to make the mole act on it, but still plausible.”

“We’re calling the person ‘the mole’ now?” Angelica asked, her eyebrow up.

“It’s the usual term for someone who infiltrates a group with the intention to destroy it from the inside,” Alex retorted irritably.

Eliza flinched. “You really think somebody wants to destroy us?”

Alex was in no mood to sugar-coat his words. “Nat’s dead. The Greaters searched your parents’ house with your mother and baby sister there. Yeah, I’d say somebody wants to destroy us.”

Eliza sat back in her chair, keeping her eyes down. She was horrified by what Alex had just said, but more by his callous tone than by the facts. He had spoken the truth.

Alex was directly across from her, and Angelica was to her left. She was happy to let Angelica take up the conversation now while once again, she ran through the names in her head: Betsy, Deb, Mark, Johnny, Joe, Nate, Johan … She wanted to reach for John’s hand on her right, but that was out of the question. He got up and began clearing the table. Angelica and Alex were still deep in a discussion that she had paid no attention to, so she said, “I’ll help,” and picked up some dishes.

“I’m making tea,” John announced. “Who else wants some?”

They all did, so Eliza stayed in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher while John organized the tea. All of the kitchen except the far end was visible from the table, and without a word, John took her hand and pulled her into the corner, twisted his hands in her hair, and brought his mouth to hers. He got her bottom lip between his teeth and teased her, not quite biting, then ran his tongue up to the sensitive place behind her top teeth until she thought her knees would give way. She pulled back finally, staring at him wide-eyed. “Are you _crazy?_ ” she whispered.

He smiled and licked his lips, sending another shudder through her. “Sh.” He pulled her back close to him, his mouth against her ear. “Do you know what I want to do?”

She pressed her face into his shoulder to muffle any sound she might make.

“I want to take your clothes off,” John told her, his voice only a thread of sound. “I want to mark you with my teeth. I want to fuck you until …”

Luckily, the kettle went off at that moment, and Eliza’s moan was drowned out.

John kissed her neck gently, no teeth, and made the tea as calmly as always. They carried the four cups out to the table and Eliza excused herself quickly to the bathroom. She stood clinging to the edge of the sink for support, staring at her reflection. _I look like a girl who wants to be fucked,_ she thought. Nobody had ever talked to her the way John just had. Not that there had been that many guys who’d had the opportunity, just two high school boyfriends before Alex. Alex had told her she was beautiful and that he loved her, and that was wonderful, but John had sounded – hungry? More like ravenous. Her panties were soaking wet now. _If we’d been alone in the apartment, we would have done it right there on the kitchen floor._

She threw cold water on her face, brushed her hair with Alex’s hairbrush, and took a few deep breaths. For a moment, she wondered what it would be like if Angelica went back to the dorm alone and left her there with Alex and John, but she pushed the idea out of her mind and finally returned to the table. Angelica gave her a quizzical look, but she just smiled as blandly as she could. She didn’t look at John or Alex.

“We’re going to come back Friday night,” Angelica told her. “Alex is calling a strategy meeting of the inner circle.”

“Everything okay?” Alex asked after Angelica and Eliza had left. He was at the table with his tablet, reviewing notes he’d taken when he talked to the General.

“Yeah, sure,” John responded. “Why?”

Alex shrugged. “I don’t know. You just seem a little – distracted.”

John crossed the room and came up behind him, put his arms around him and leaned down to kiss his cheek. “There’s a lot to think about, _querido._ ”

“Yeah, that’s for sure.” Alex leaned back and closed his eyes.

“You’re tired,” John said. “Put it away for now and come to bed.” He slid his hands under Alex’s shirt to touch his bare skin.

“Mm, you trying to seduce me?”

“Might be. You think I’ll have any luck?” He kissed the back of Alex’s neck, then kissed his way around to his jaw.

“Ah, fuck,” Alex murmured.

“Mm-hm. Come on.”

John took him by the hand and led him to the bedroom, honest enough to know that at least part of the arousal he felt was because of those few minutes in the kitchen with Eliza. _What the fuck is going on?_ Even as he pulled his clothes off, even as he got his hands on Alex, he remembered how soft Eliza was against him. But Alex felt good, _good,_ and he loved the way he could take Alex apart with his mouth. He loved the sounds he made, loved teasing him with his lips and his tongue until he had him sweating and swearing and gasping, and then pushing him right over the edge, hearing him yell and feeling him shake. There was no doubt in his mind that he wanted Alex.

Then when Alex went down on him, his mouth hot and needy, he gave himself up to it, his hands in Alex’s hair, twisting it the way he’d twisted Eliza’s – shit, not _now_. Alex was playing with him, using his hands as well as his mouth, pressing and stroking and sucking, pulling John into the current that carried him faster and faster. When he came, it was still Alex working him through it, making it last as long as he could. It was Alex who swept him up in his arms and told him how perfect he was. He’d never loved anyone as much as he loved Alex.

Half-drugged with the drowsiness that comes after good sex, Alex curled against him and already asleep, he wondered what it would be like to lie like this with Eliza in his arms, and in that not-quite-awake state of mind, a thought came to him with complete clarity. He didn’t want Eliza _instead of_ Alex. He wanted Eliza _and_ Alex. His last thought before he fell asleep was, _oh, okay, we can work that out._

*          *          *          *          *

Director of Public Safety Joshua Loring was scheduled to appear on all forms of media to give an important statement on Friday at seven o’clock, so the eight people that Alex was now calling the “Inner Circle” were finishing up their pizza and waiting to hear what he had to say.

“It won’t be good news,” Herc predicted, “but after what King announced last week, I don’t know how much more restrictive it can get.”

The government’s latest regulations included raising the price of a media license to five thousand dollars a year, and instituting the purchase of annual licenses in order to buy alcohol and tobacco. There were also further restrictions on which employment positions Deplos and Hopes could hold. Only Haves were free to work at any job they chose.

“We’ve already got people going hungry,” Tim said. “Even if they have enough money – and most of them don’t – they can only shop at designated stores, and the Deplo grocery stores are a disgrace. There’s never enough on the shelves, half the things are past their expiration date, and there’s no fresh produce to speak of.”

“We’re going to try to start a church garden in the spring,” Danny added. “There’s not a lot of ground, but we ought to be able to grow some tomatoes and green beans, at least.”

“We’ll help,” John responded immediately.

Danny grinned at him. “I already knew that.”

The news anchor introduced Director Joshua Loring, and he appeared on screen. He was wearing a dress uniform adorned with gold braid and looping gold epaulettes. His buttons were polished to a shiny gleam, and on his chest were more ribbons than even General Akhdir had displayed as a veteran of two wars. Despite the showy uniform, Loring was an unattractive man, with a stocky build and a low, sloping forehead. He peered at the camera with small pale-blue eyes.

“Looks like a cave man dressed up to march in the high school band,” Herc muttered, and Danny nearly fell off his chair laughing.

“He does!” Angelica agreed. “No wonder we keep hearing things about his wife.”

“What things?” Alex asked alertly, but Loring had begun to speak.

“We are all aware,” he was saying, “that the actions of the lawless seditionists who call themselves the Movement have caused shortages of essential goods and products in our communities …”

“‘Lawless seditionist’ is redundant, you fool!” Alex snapped.

“Shut up,” John said. “We have to hear this.”

“Many of our citizens have difficulty buying items that they need and have every right to purchase,” Loring continued.

Gil frowned. “Why is he saying something that makes sense?” he asked suspiciously.

“Of course, President King and Congress have been deeply concerned about this problem of shortages. The House and Senate committees on Economic Justice completed their studies recently, and I am happy to announce this evening that a bill addressing this problem has been passed by both the House of Representatives and the Senate, and the President will be signing it into law tomorrow.”

“Wait a minute,” Angelica said. “Why haven’t we heard anything about the committee reports? Why is he telling us it’s already been passed when we’ve had no opportunity to contact our representatives?”

“While I am speaking to the citizens of New York,” Loring went on, “other directors of public safety around the country are addressing the citizens of their cities and towns. I cannot stress enough that equitable distribution of essential goods is very much a matter of public safety. We have all seen the distressing and dangerous disturbances in our streets, instigated by seditionists, and we want no more of them.”

They were all silent now, trying to figure out what sort of solution Congress might have found for shortages and how the government was going to tie that to the Movement.

“Our plan, then, has two major components,” Loring said, baring his teeth in what might have been a smile. “First, all households will be issued ration cards, and as of January twentieth, most essential goods will be available in fair and equitable rations.”

“Oh, fuck, no!” John yelled. “They’re going to ration food?”

“One representative from each household will apply in person at various convenient locations, which will be listed at the end of this broadcast and will also be on our website. Ration cards will allow for the purchase of sufficient amounts of goods for the residents of each household, based on their ages and occupations.”

“Occupations?” Eliza questioned. “What’s that got to do with it?”

“Please read the information on the website for more information,” Loring continued.

“Yeah, which you can only do if you’ve got five thousand dollars for a fucking media license,” muttered Herc, whose family lived without internet, TV or radio.

“The second component of our plan will greatly reduce the activity that has caused the shortages in the first place. While we understand that our Constitution gives us all the right to speak freely, that right is not absolute, and it becomes untenable when it is used to instigate violence.”

“No,” Alex said. “No, no, no, no.”

“Some have said that the frequent demonstrations that have too often led to mayhem in our streets are expressions of free speech, but we all know that is not true. These are illegal uprisings whose purpose is open insurrection and the overthrow of our government. Beginning tomorrow, any demonstration, manifestation, protest, rally, march, or other public expression of seditious behavior will be grounds for arrest. Those charged with sedition can and will be held indefinitely to protect our citizens from violent thugs who are working to destroy our country.”

John was grabbing any item small enough to throw and throwing it, Gil was cursing nonstop in French, Eliza was crying, and everybody else except Alex was yelling angrily at Loring or each other. Alex was standing stock-still in the middle of the room, looking dazed. Danny yanked a table lamp out of John’s hands as he was about to launch it across the room. He put the lamp on the floor and pulled John’s hands behind his back in a move that he’d learned only a week ago. “Knock it off,” he snapped at John, and then turned to the rest of them and yelled, “Shut up!” He gave them a minute, and then said, “We’re going to need a plan.” He turned to Alex and looked at him expectantly.

Alex bit his lip and then nodded. “I’m calling the General.”

*          *          *          *          *

Contrary to what King, Loring, and the rest of the government seemed to expect, outlawing demonstrations brought thousands of citizens into the streets. Even those who had preferred to stay uninvolved were infuriated by being told that it was now illegal to protest peacefully. There weren’t enough Greaters to handle the uprising, and the ones who showed up were often beaten and in some cases, killed. Angry citizens armed themselves with anything they could: guns if they had them, knives, baseball bats or rocks if they didn’t.

Alex’s call to General Akhdir brought frustration as well as strategic instructions. “We’re way outnumbered, Alex,” the General said. “We can’t fight them in the streets one-on-one; we’d be annihilated. We continue with sabotage, small operations that make things as difficult as possible for the Greaters.”

“Hit and run, you mean?”

“As much as possible. Maximum effect with minimum manpower. We’re not going to win this by overwhelming force. That being said, now is the time to bring in as many recruits as you can.”

“But test their loyalty, right?”

“Yes. Make sure you know who you’re dealing with.”

Alex talked to John, Gil, and Angelica about a piece of disinformation they could give Marty Middicks that would serve as a test.

“Something that’s kind of a big deal, but still believable, right?” John queried. “Like, we’re not going to say that the General is coming here for dinner.”

Alex thought for a minute. “Not the General, but …”

“Perhaps some other person,” Gil suggested. “Since the fighting has gotten worse, there might be a strategy meeting, and it could be held here.”

“Could you say that Tony was coming up from Philly?” Angelica asked.

Alex nodded. “Maybe a little more tempting than that. Maybe Tony and Ethan? Let Marty know when and where.”

“Why not a few more people?” John suggested. “Marty would know that we don’t travel alone on Movement business.”

“So Tony would be driving up from Philly with, say, Will Hays, and Ethan would be coming from Boston with Sam or Sybil so that we can all talk strategy together. Maybe I tell Marty I need him to act as a lookout or something for this meeting?”

“That sounds very plausible,” Gil said.

“All right.” Alex opened his secure phone to his calendar. “Let’s pick a time and place for this fake meeting.” He entered the information and then looked around the room. “You know, after we’ve run this as disinformation, maybe I should talk to the General about actually having a strategy meeting like this.”

The fake meeting was scheduled for three weeks in the future, and Alex managed to divulge the information when he and Angelica took Marty and Sylvia to the shooting range for more practice. “It will be at Betsy’s at four o’clock,” he said quietly to Marty as Angelica was explaining to Sylvia for the tenth time that she should squeeze the trigger, not yank it. “We’ll be in the conference room, so if you could just sit in the front having coffee, that would be good. If anything looks suspicious, you can warn us.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” Marty promised. “Who did you say is going to be there?”

“The Movement leaders from Boston and Philadelphia, and a few other people from those squads. You don’t need to know their names.”

Marty nodded. “Right, of course.” He looked so earnest that Alex almost believed he could trust him.

*          *          *          *          *

The demonstrations and disturbances continued, as Alex did his best to keep to the guidelines issued by the General. Tim and Danny opened an unregistered combination food bank and first aid station in what had been the church kitchen. Much of the food was supplied by John, who used his money, Have status, and ration card to buy large quantities of things like rice, dried beans, and canned fruits and vegetables. He still had to be careful to shop at as many different stores as possible because the items he was buying were not the usual Have purchases. Gil and Eliza both spent as much time as they could there, cleaning and bandaging injuries and handing out antibiotics to prevent infections. Alex had found some dark websites where prescription drugs were available, and Gil paid for them from a French bank account.

Herc didn’t go anywhere without a handful of useful tools and took every opportunity to slash tires of any government vehicle he passed. He became adept at “accidentally” dropping a handful of change on a sidewalk next to a Greater vehicle, stooping down to pick it up, and sticking an ice pick into the tires at the same time.

Alex perfected his hacking skills by doing everything he could to bring chaos to any government website. He also managed to delete records of overtime or vacation pay owed to Greaters, causing employment disputes that made their forces even less efficient.

Angelica spent hours ever week training Marty, Sylvia, and a few other newcomers.

All of them, but especially Gil, John, and Danny, found ways to get up on rooftops and take shots at any Greater they could get in their sights.

They stopped thinking of Danny as a kid. It didn’t matter how many years he had been alive. He was an adult, shouldering adult responsibilities.

Toward the end of January, Alex got a text message from the General on a secure line: _Entire VA squad compromised, going underground immediately. No further communication._

“Holy shit,” he said, staring at the phone.

John looked up. “What?” he asked.

They were at Betsy’s with Angelica and Gil. “Conference room,” Alex ordered.

They all knew the drill. Gil and Angelica left first, saying their goodbyes loudly enough to be overheard if anyone was listening. John and Alex continued talking casually, then finished their coffee and departed about fifteen minutes later. They met up in the conference room.

Alex showed them the text.

“The _entire_ Virginia squad?” Angelica gasped. “How?”

“This is all I’ve got,” Alex said, gesturing to the phone. “How the hell are they going underground? I don’t even know what that means.”

“How many people are in the Virginia squad?” Gil asked.

Alex counted them off on his fingers. “TJ, his tech genius, whose name I still don’t know, a guy named Randolph, the new kid, Harry whatsisname, a couple more. Probably six in the inner circle. I have no idea how many might have been compromised, though.”

“What does the General mean by ‘no further communication’?” Angelica wanted to know.

Alex looked frustrated. “I guess that means that if we have a tech problem, we can no longer ask TJ’s techie what to do.”

“I wonder where _underground_ is,” John said. “I mean, it’s good that they’re alive somewhere, right? I wonder if the General has underground locations ready in case this happens.”

Alex stared at him. “Oh, my God, John, of course. The General wouldn’t be running the Movement without safe houses. There must have been a place for them to go in an emergency.”

Gil nodded. “That’s good to know.” They all looked at him. He shrugged. “In case, you know, we have to run for our lives.”

Angelica rubbed her forehead. “I hate all this secret agent shit,” she muttered.

Alex put his hand on hers. “We all do, but the fact is, right now, we’re up to our necks in secret agent shit.”

His secure phone chimed and he looked at the screen. “It’s Crazy Tony,” he said. “Probably wants to talk about where TJ might be hiding out.” He opened the phone. “Hey, Tony, what’s up?” Alex’s face suddenly went still, and he put his hand up to his eyes. “Ah, _fuck_. How?” He stood up and paced across the room. “When? Fuck, Tony, this is … I know, I know.” His mouth twisted and he paced back again. “How’s Molly?”

“Oh, no,” breathed Angelica.

Alex kept pacing. “Listen, Tony, I can’t tell you how sorry I am … yeah, a really good guy.” He stopped and scrubbed at his eyes with his hand. “I know, the General would never allow it. Tell Molly … tell her how sorry we are.”

He ended the call and put the phone down on the table. They all knew, but he said it anyway. “Will Hays was killed yesterday, shot by a Greater near City Hall. He was trying to help some Deplos register for ration cards.”

*          *          *          *          *

Of course they couldn’t go to Philadelphia for the funeral. Restrictions were even tighter than they had been when Nat was killed. Tony requested that they not try to contact Molly because it might bring even more attention on her or their squad, and considering what had just happened in Virginia, he didn’t want to risk it. “When this is all over,” Tony said to Alex, “when we get rid of King and have free elections, they’ll be able to see Molly. It may be a while, but she’ll understand.”

“I know that’s right,” Eliza said to Angelica. They were in their dorm room, ready for bed, and Eliza had been telling Angelica about how happy Will and Molly had seemed in their tiny apartment. “I completely understand what Tony is saying, but it’s so awful that I can’t even call Molly to tell her how sorry I am. My God, Ange, they only got married last summer.”

“I know,” Angelica told her, handing her a handful of tissues. “Nothing is normal anymore. We all have to handle things that we’ve never been prepared to deal with, and somehow we just have to keep going.”

Eliza nodded, wiping her eyes with a tissue. “I get scared, Ange. How many more, do you think? Sometimes I look around the room when we’re at John and Alex’s or at Betsy’s, and I think, _Who else?_ How many of us will make it through all this and vote in those free elections we keep talking about?”

Angelica put her arms around her sister. “Don’t, Eliza. We can’t keep thinking about that.”

Eliza pulled back. “But we know it could happen.”

“We’ve always known. We’ve all heard Alex say that nothing is promised, but that’s true no matter what. People died tragically before all this.”

Eliza wiped her eyes again and wadded up the tissue in her hand, holding it tight as if she could somehow anchor herself to the present. “We have to stay aware of it,” she said stubbornly. “We have to appreciate every single minute we get. We can’t waste time waiting for things to happen.”

Angelica wasn’t sure what she meant, but she didn’t want to ask since Eliza was already upset, so she hugged her. “Well, just in case I never told you, I’m glad you’re my sister.”

The brought a faint smile. “Me too, Ange.”

Much later, when Angelica was sound asleep, Eliza still lay awake, turning things over in her mind. Finally, she sat up, picked up her phone, and sent a text: _If you come to the dorm at 2:00 Tuesday, we can talk._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Movement has lost another member, and TJ's entire squad is underground somewhere. The Movement is seriously outnumbered. Now what? Will Marty Middicks prove himself trustworthy? Why was the General asking about Tim? Will TJ's squad be able to take any further part in the insurrection? How safe are the Schuylers up in Albany?  
> Thank you so much for leaving kudos and comments. I'm always interested to hear what you think about this story and the characters.


	59. Let Me Inside Your Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Eliza's relationship changes. John reveals more of his past. Danny confronts Marty Middicks when he finds he is friends with a Greater. Gil has news from his cousin Julien. Angelica tells Alex about a satirical song that everybody's listening to.

Angelica had classes at two and three on Tuesdays, and her three o’clock was a ninety-minute seminar. Eliza had a class at three o’clock herself, but she wasn’t going. At one-fifty, she was sitting in the desk chair staring at the door, wondering if she’d made a mistake. _Of course it was a mistake,_ she thought. _I know perfectly well John’s not coming here to talk. I know what’s going to happen. I still have time to text him and tell him not to come. Even if he’s downstairs in the lobby, he won’t come up. He’ll leave, and we can talk another time._

It was one-fifty-four. She picked up her phone and texted: _Maybe we should talk another time._

She got a text back immediately: _Too late. I’m here._

_Where?_

_Open the door._

She did, and he smiled at her, and he was right. It was too late. As soon as he was in the room, Eliza locked the door behind him, and as she turned around, he pressed himself against her, pushing her back to the door so that she had nowhere else to go. His mouth was on hers, and his hands were in her hair.

“Please tell me Angelica won’t be back soon,” he murmured, his lips on her neck.

“Not for at least two hours,” she told him. “I’m skipping class to be here.”

“Already I’m a bad influence on you,” he said.

“John,” she murmured. He still had her tight against the door so she couldn’t move. He got his teeth on her earlobe and she took in a breath and then couldn’t let it go as he bit just enough for her to feel it.

“Hm?”

“I … oh, God … what you said …”

“What I said?”

“In the kitchen.”

He licked the spot he had bitten and bent his head to the neckline of her shirt. “You mean when I said I want to take your clothes off and mark you with my teeth?”

“Yes, I didn’t … I never …”

“And fuck you until you fall apart in my hands?” he continued. Her knees gave way, so he picked her up and laid her on the bed. He lay down next to her. “I meant every word.”

She was still having trouble breathing. “Nobody ever talked to me like that,” she gasped.

“Really? As beautiful as you are, no boy ever told you what he wanted to do? What’s the matter with New York boys?” He propped himself up on his elbow and looked at her face. “You like it, don’t you?”

A deep blush spread from her throat to her hairline. “It’s … I …”

“You think it’s hot?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I can talk dirty all day.”

Her heart was pounding so hard she thought he must be able to hear it. Maybe he could, because he slid his hand under her shirt and rested it over her heart, keeping it there while he kissed her. If he planned to make her fall apart, she felt like it had already started. He pulled on the hem of her top and gave a huff of frustration. “Let’s get this shit off.”

It didn’t take long, and then he finally saw her naked, beautiful and soft, and he wanted to touch every inch of her. He reached out, and her skin was like velvet, the only softness he had ever wanted. He stroked her, running his fingers lightly from her throat to her belly. The mark that he had left on her was still there, and he touched it.

“You did that,” she said.

He smiled and leaned down to kiss it, run his tongue over it. “I want to do it again. I want to put my mark on you here” he kissed her collarbone softly, “here” at the base of her neck, “here” just under her ear, “here” a kiss on her stomach, just above her navel, “and here” on her inner thigh. “I have it all planned.”

“My God, John.” She was breathing hard again. He liked that.

He brought his mouth back to her navel, flicked his tongue in it, and then just above it, as he had promised, he bit into her beautiful soft skin, sucking hard. Her hips bucked up and her breath came out in a long trembling moan. He didn’t stop until he felt her start to shudder. “Yeah, that’s good,” he said, finishing with a light kiss. He kissed a pathway up to her breast and played with her nipple, scraping his teeth over, making her whimper. “You like me to use my teeth,” he whispered. It wasn’t a question.

“I didn’t know it …”

“Oh, darlin’,” he said, his voice slipping back to its South Carolina cadences, “that pretty neck of yours is just beggin’ for it.” He kissed her throat and then reluctantly pulled away. “Not today, though. Just a little taste at a time.”

He put his hand between her legs and palmed her a little. “You still okay with this?” he asked, as she pressed up into his hand. “No second thoughts?”

“No … I mean yes, it’s okay, it’s good.” Her voice was shaky as she looked up into his eyes, glittering green-gold under his thick lashes. “I _want_ you, John.”

“Tell me again,” he said, sliding a finger in and circling. “I like to hear what you want too.”

“I want you.”

He put in a second finger and explored her, finding out what she felt like. “You want me here?”

“Yes, there, yes, yes, please …”

He scissored his fingers, then curled them up and pressed outward, and she let out a noise he’d never heard before, a sound like a choked-off scream.

“Ah, fuck, I want to hear that again.” He circled his fingers inside her, getting his hand as wet and slippery as he could so that he could open her further and find her clit. He stroked it lightly, and she moaned and spread her legs. “I’m gonna keep doin’ that, darlin’,” he told her. “Right there. Then I’ll do this again …” and he curled his fingers up and pressed, and she made that wonderful noise. He kept doing it and got on his knees over her, reached to the table for the condom and rolled it on, took his thumb back to her and slowly began to press into her opening.

He kept talking. “I’m gonna do this, and pretty soon you’ll come apart, just like I said.” His breath was coming fast now too, and it was harder to talk.

Eliza took in a long, shuddering breath and pulled her knees back, rolling her hips up for him. She was so warm and so slippery that there was no resistance at all, and he stopped being cautious. He went in fast and hard, all the way in until there was nothing between them. She had her hands twisted in the sheets, bracing herself. Her eyes were wide and dark, unfocused, and her lips were parted. She was gasping out ragged little whimpers, and every sound she made aroused him more. He pulled almost all the way out, then went back in as deep as he could. Somewhere in his mind was the thought that he ought to be gentle with her this first time, but overwhelming that was the sheer physical need he felt for her. He gave in to it completely, and she found some words and begged him, “Please, John, please, please do it, do that, oh, God, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop …” until all the words blurred together as he felt her start to quiver. Then the spasms were stronger, pulsing around him and against him, and he pushed deep inside her one more time, as if he could reach her heart.

*          *          *          *          *

Somebody had burned effigies of Commissioner Howe and Director Loring on College Walk during the night, and the Greaters were all over campus trying to find out who had done it. As usual, they were doing more yelling and threatening than actual questioning.

Alex was taking a short cut from his three o'clock class back to the apartment with Danny, who’d taken the bus over after school because he wanted to hear all about the demonstration.

“Is it true that the effigy of Loring had a sign on it that said, ‘Willie Howe, don’t fuck with my wife’?” Danny asked.

Alex snorted. “Actually, I heard it said, ‘Willie Howe is fucking my wife’.”

“Maybe we could ask around, be sure we get all the possible variations,” Danny suggested.

“I think there are pictures,” Alex told him.

“No shit? Who got pictures?”

Photographing a demonstration was illegal, of course. Even if you weren’t participating in the demonstration, even if you claimed you wanted evidence of law-breaking to show the police, taking pictures could get you arrested.

“Joe Allicocke. At least, that’s what I heard. Nothing’s reliable these days.”

“Speaking of …” Danny looked at Alex and hesitated.

“What?”

“You know Marty Middicks is never going to be able to hit a target smaller than a tractor trailer, right?”

“I get that he’s no marksman, but he might be able to help out. Come on, we need everybody we can get.”

“Okay.”

“How about Sylvia?”

“Well, if she really works hard, someday she might be as good as Marty.”

“Lord, give me strength. You know anybody else who might be interested in joining us? Anybody from the church?”

Danny shook his head. “I don’t think so. You know we’ve lost a lot of members lately, right?”

“Yeah, I’ve been hoping some of them would come back.”

“They’re scared to leave their houses. It’s not just church – people are afraid to go anywhere. You know who’s not afraid, though? Mr. Weathers. He says that standing up for the right thing always comes with risk.”

Alex thought about the elderly man who had been hurt in the church shooting. “Didn’t you say he knew your grandfather?”

“My great-grandfather,” Danny corrected him. “They marched for civil rights back in the day.”

“I wonder how many times we’re going to have to march for the same thing,” Alex sighed.

Danny suddenly grabbed his arm. “Hey, look.”

Alex looked up ahead where Danny was pointing. There was Marty Middicks talking with a Greater. Marty wasn’t being questioned. He and the officer were having a friendly conversation, both of them smiling and laughing, and occasionally handing phones back and forth to look at pictures.

“Son of a bitch,” Alex muttered. “Let’s go see what’s up.”

They approached casually, and Marty looked startled when Alex called his name. _Great, he’s really alert,_ Alex thought gloomily. _Nobody will ever be able to sneak up on him._

“Hi,” Marty said with an awkward half-wave. “Um …”

Alex didn’t help him out. He looked at the Greater’s name tag. It said Mattice. He looked back at Marty.

“Oh, sorry,” Marty mumbled, “This is Nick Mattice. We know each other from high school. Nick, this is Alex Hamilton.”

Was Marty actually introducing him to a Greater as if they were going to be friends? Alex gave a brief nod, but no other acknowledgement, then turned pointedly to Marty and said, “I thought you went to some fancy prep school upstate.”

“I did,” Marty responded, flushing. “I mean, I went to Auden-James Academy, but I don’t know how fancy it is. So did Nick.”

Alex looked Nick Mattice up and down. “I thought those schools all had hundred-percent college acceptance rates,” he commented.

“They do,” Nick Mattice responded. “I was accepted at Brown, and I went there last year.”

“Didn’t like it?” Alex was being deliberately insolent. He knew if John or Gil or Angelica had been with him instead of Danny, he would have been more restrained, but he wanted to see how the Greater would react.

“Brown’s not cheap,” Mattice told him.

Marty broke in. “Like a lot of people, Nick’s family has had a rough time lately.”

“That’s too bad. I guess he found a different career path.”

“At least I’m working,” the Greater snapped.

“You like it?” Danny asked unexpectedly.

Mattice raised his eyebrows. “And you are …?”

“Oh, sorry,” Danny said, excessively polite, and held out his hand. “Daniel Phoenix. I’m Alex’s brother.”

“Different last names?”

“We’re adopted. Anyway, do you like the job? I’m just asking because Alex has been trying to convince me to go to Columbia for pre-law, but I haven’t made up my mind. I think a few years on the police force might be good background for law, especially if I decide to become a prosecutor.”

_Lord, give me strength,_ Alex thought, _Danny’s off the leash and God only knows what he’s going to do now._

Mattice looked at Danny suspiciously, but Danny’s face was all innocent curiosity. “It’s all right,” Mattice said grudgingly.

“Has it been difficult for you to fit in, being a former Have and all?” Danny pursued.

Alex positioned himself to intervene, but it was Marty who stepped in front of Mattice defensively. “Why are you asking personal questions?”

“I just want to know. I mean, Nick here can’t be the only one of the Greaters who’s been demoted to – what?” Danny turned to look at Nick Mattice appraisingly. “Hope or Deplo? Which one are you now?”

“Hope, of course,” Nick retorted. “The Greaters don’t take Deplos.”

“Oh, right, I forgot. So if you’re lucky, you’ll stay a Hope, but if things don’t work out, and you move down another notch, you’ll lose your job.”

“Knock it off,” Marty told Danny.

“Why? You guys have a problem with reality?”

Marty looked nervously over his shoulder. “You don’t want anybody to hear you talking like that. It sounds like incitement to sedition.”

Danny laughed. “No shit, really? What, you’re afraid one of the other Greaters might hear me, but you’re fine with your buddy Nick listening to everything I say? I swear, Marty, it’s hard to believe you’re as stupid as you act.”

Marty glared at Alex. “Can you shut him up?”

Alex snorted. “Not without resorting to physical violence. I think Danny has a point, though.”

“What do you mean?” Marty asked angrily.

“No offense to Nick here, but you seem to think we can speak freely in front of him just because you guys went to – what was it? Auntie Jane’s Academy?”

“Auden-James,” Marty retorted through clenched teeth.

“Oh, right,” Alex said.

Nick shook his head in disgust. “I’m leaving. Marty, if I see you around, don’t expect me to say hello. As for you,” he added to Danny, “go fuck yourself.” He stomped off in the direction of Amsterdam Avenue.

Marty turned and stepped closer to Danny, his face red with anger. “What the hell is the matter with you? What were you trying to start?”

“I was trying to show you that your judgment sucks,” Danny told him. “You think because you know this Greater from high school or prep school or whatever the hell it was, you can trust him? You think you can be friends with him? Don’t you realize that if he has orders to shoot, you’re just as dead as if he’d never seen you before?”

Marty turned to Alex. “I know Nick, and he’s a good guy. Why did you let Danny talk like that?”

“Okay, first,” Alex said, “I don’t _let_ Danny do anything. He’s an independent human being. Second, he’s right. You thought you could drop your guard with Nick because you knew him before. You’re wrong. I don’t care if he’s your old friend, your cousin, or your brother, He’s on King’s side, and as long as he wears that uniform, you don’t talk to him.”

“We all follow the same regulations,” Danny put in. “If you’re on our side, as you keep saying, you can’t just do as you please because you think you know more than anybody else.”

“Oh, that’s funny, coming from you,” Marty snapped, advancing a step closer so that his face was only inches from Danny’s. “I don’t need some high school kid lecturing me on how to behave or how to talk to people.”

“Back off, Marty,” Alex cautioned.

“Back off? From this kid?” Marty sneered, and shoved Danny in the chest.

Danny hooked his foot around Marty’s leg, took him to the ground, and twisted his arm behind his back. He had his knee on Marty’s spine before Alex had a chance to say a word. A few passers-by stopped to look.

Marty was yelling, cursing, and trying to break free, while Danny stayed right where he was, not even breathing hard. Danny was acting so much like John that it was all Alex could do not to laugh.

“Marty,” Alex said, glancing over at the small audience that was gathering, “if I persuade Danny to let you up, can you walk away quietly? I want to talk to you and Sylvia, but now’s not a good time.”

“All right, fine,” Marty sputtered angrily. “I want to talk to you too.”

“Text me later,” Alex told him and turned to Danny. “Could you let him go?”

Since Marty’s face was against the pavement, he couldn’t see Alex’s smile. Danny shrugged. “Sure,” he said. He let go of Marty’s arm and stood up, brushing off the knees of his jeans.

Marty glared at him, fists clenched, but then turned and walked away, and the observers dispersed, since the brief show seemed to be over.

“Did you have to do that?” Alex asked Danny with a pained expression.

“We can’t trust him,” Danny responded. “That was just an illustration.”

“I get your point, I’m just not sure this was the best place to make it.”

“It was already bad enough, but now we find out he’s friends with a Greater. He didn’t even try to hide it. He fucking introduced us to him, like it was no big deal.”

“I know. It may just be that he’s too stupid to see how significant that would be.”

“Then he’s too stupid to be in the Movement.”

Alex laughed, and cuffed Danny on the shoulder. “Let’s go get coffee.”

“Okay.”

“Where’d you learn that take-down?”

“From John, of course.”

“Of course. You can tell him all about it later.”

*          *          *          *          *

John had his arm around Eliza, his fingers in her hair. He wasn’t ready to let her go.

“You’ve been with girls before,” she said. Her head was on his chest.

“Mm-hm.”

“When?”

He turned her face toward him and kissed her lightly. “A long time ago.”

She smiled. “It couldn’t have been that long ago. How old were you?”

“Fourteen, fifteen.”

“Oh, my God!”

John stared up at the ceiling. “Yeah, well, Henry Laurens had some strange ideas.”

“Your father?”

He thought back, trying to find a way to put it into words that wouldn’t be too blunt. “I had girlfriends because it was important to him that I have girlfriends. It was about doing what he wanted me to do. It had nothing to do with what I wanted or needed.”

She looked at him, put her hand on his cheek. “He wanted more than you just having a girlfriend, though, right?”

“Mm-hm.” He turned so he could smile at her. “Real men have sex.”

“When they’re fourteen?” She was appalled.

“Yeah.” He lay quietly, remembering. “Look, compared to a lot of what my father did, it wasn’t worth fighting about. Even then, I knew enough to pick my battles. So my father kept inviting girls over to dinner, all of them older than me. I knew what was expected, and I did what I was supposed to do.”

“Your father chose the girls?”

“Yeah. I think he thought they’d teach me things. They did, actually, but maybe not what he expected.”

“Poor little boy.”

He shook his head. “Nah, it wasn’t that bad … it was just … I needed some sort of inspiration to make it work, so I learned to close my eyes and picture the person I’d really like to be making love with.”

It took her a little time to understand that. “So you’re saying that when you had sex with a girl, you fantasized about a guy?”

“Yep.”

“Any guy in particular?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely. It was always Jesse St. James from _Glee._ ”

That made her giggle. “I had a crush on him myself.”

“See, we both have good taste. He was really cute.”

“And that’s how you managed it?”

“For a while. Then I met a guy I really liked, and I realized sex wasn’t always such hard work.”

_He was an exchange student from Argentina, all tumbled curls and flashing dark eyes. His name was Francisco, and from the moment John saw him in math class on the first day of the semester, he was overwhelmed with longing for him. He followed him around like an eager puppy just to get a word or a smile. It didn’t take long for Francisco to catch on. One day without warning, he pulled John into an empty classroom, pushed him against a wall and ground up against him, his mouth experienced and compelling. John was lost, wrecked, tinder to any flame Francisco wanted to light. It lasted about a month._

“What happened then?”

He was quiet for a few minutes, playing with her hair. “You sure you want to hear about this?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“My father walked in on us.”

_He knew now that his father had set a trap. Francisco had been coming over to “study” in the afternoons, when Henry was at the office. Henry had never come home early before. He’d found them naked in John’s bed. He’d screamed every foul name he could think of at both of them, and had threatened to call the police and have Francisco arrested for rape._

_He made sure they both paid a price. Henry spent the evening on the phone with the superintendent of schools and the president of the school board, negotiating in typical Henry Laurens fashion. He would not call the police if the “goddam faggot spic” was sent back to where he came from. John was beaten bloody and locked in his room until his face healed enough that he could return to school without causing talk. Marcy slipped notes under his door, notes in wobbly second-grade handwriting: “R U OK I love U.” John burned the notes in his bathroom sink and washed the ashes down the drain._

_He never saw Francisco again._

He didn’t give Eliza the details because there were still some things he never talked about, but even with the barest outline of the story, her eyes filled with tears. He tried to comfort her. “Hey, it’s okay, baby girl. It’s over. The past is past.”

“How can you …”

“Sh.” He kissed her. “I’m all right now, really.” He kissed her again. “Really. Anyway, that’s when I concluded that I was definitely gay.”

“Definitely?”

“Well, considering that right now I’m in bed with a beautiful naked girl, maybe not so definitely.” He laughed ruefully. “Eliza, I was fifteen. All I knew about sex with girls is that my father wanted me to do it, and I had good reason to believe that anything my father approved of wasn’t good. All I knew about sex with guys was one hot teenage romance that was even more exciting because it was exactly what my father would hate the most. I can’t swear that I had it all figured out.”

“And now?”

“Now?”

“Yeah, today, here, have you thought about Jesse St. James?”

“Oh, fuck, no. I haven’t thought about anybody except Eliza Schuyler, and I’ll happily admit that I enjoy thinking about her. How about you? Have you been thinking about Jesse St. James – or Alex Hamilton?”

“No, not at all, just John Laurens, the amazing, wonderful, beautiful John Laurens.” She traced his lips with her fingertip, and he cradled her head and did the same thing with his tongue, her top lip, then her bottom lip. Her lips parted, and her mouth melted into his. He finally let her go, and she settled against him, her head on his shoulder.

He knew he could fall asleep like this, but there was more to say. “Sweetheart, there’s just one thing.”

“You already have a boyfriend.”

“Well, yeah.”

She took a deep breath. “I should probably tell you something.”

“You and Alex? I know.”

“You _know?_ ”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re okay with it?”

“If you are and Alex is, then yes. It doesn’t mean Alex doesn’t still love me, and I love him.”

She lay silently, trying to make it make sense in her mind. “Do you think it’s possible to be in love with two people at the same time?” she asked.

He pulled her in and kissed her again. “It seems to be,” he told her. “What do you think?”

“Did you just say you’re in love with me?”

He looked into her eyes and brushed a strand of hair back from her face. He knew how he felt about her, knew that he would do anything in the world to keep her safe. It was the same thing he felt for Alex. Maybe that wouldn’t make sense to other people, but it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. “Yeah, I did. I’ve loved you for a long time, but I was putting people in categories. You know, I loved you, but I couldn’t be _in love_ with you because you’re a girl, so I convinced myself that what I felt for you was a very deep friendship. I even knew I liked touching you weeks, maybe months ago, but I wouldn’t let myself get to the obvious conclusion.”

She propped herself up on her elbow so she could see him. “That’s what I’ve been doing. I’ve loved you for ages, and I wanted to be with you as much as I could, and, yes, I liked touching you too, but I knew I loved Alex, so I had to think of you as a friend. That was a different category. Is that what you mean?”

“Exactly. Alex doesn’t have those categories, so he sees things differently. He loves who he loves, even if it’s two people at once.”

“I thought he couldn’t love me if he loved you.”

“What do you think now?”

“I think maybe Alex has been right all along.”

“He’s going to love hearing us admit that.”

“We should probably talk to him.”

“Later,” John said. “How much time do we have before Angelica gets here?”

*          *          *          *          *

Gil was at a back table in Betsy’s, drinking tea and reading something on his iPad. Alex went to the counter to put in their order, and by the time he got to the table, Danny had caught Gil up on their encounter with Marty Middicks and his Greater friend.

“I think Danny is right that we cannot trust him,” Gil said seriously. “It is not even that he has bad motives, but just that he is too stupid to understand what is dangerous.”

“You’re probably right,” Alex sighed, stirring his coffee. “We can keep Marty on the fringes, but I can’t see that he’s going to be much use to us.”

“Better to know now,” Gil pointed out, and then a smile spread across his face. “I have news from Julien.”

Alex glanced around. There was no one near them, but he still kept his voice low. “About our friend Martine?”

“Yes. Julien says that she is settled in comfortably and that she is feeling well. He has arranged for her to take classes in French in the town, and she is learning quickly. Julien has a friend, Sophie, who is an English teacher at the _lycée_ , and she is helping also, so that Martine is not alone so much.” Gil looked through the window at pedestrians walking by in the late afternoon sunshine. He turned back to them and said softly in a voice they almost never heard from him, “It breaks my heart.”

Alex touched his hand. “We all feel the same way.”

Gil nodded. “I know.” He drank some of his coffee and then waved when he saw Angelica come in the door.

She picked up her coffee at the counter and joined them. “Where’s John?” she asked.

Alex shrugged. “I’m not sure. Probably off stealing license plates or something. He tells me sometimes it’s better if I don’t know.”

“He doesn’t actually steal license plates,” Danny said. “He exchanges them.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the people whose license plates he exchanges appreciate that distinction,” Alex responded, rolling his eyes.

“It helps us maintain our cover,” Gil reminded him.

“I know. I’m grateful, really. It’s just better if I don’t think about it.” He turned to Angelica. “When Josh Loring was on TV last week, you said something about his wife, that there were stories about her or something? What was that?”

Angelica and Danny exchanged glances. “You haven’t heard the song yet?” Angelica asked.

“What song?”

“Gil, have you heard it?”

Gil nodded, “Yes, but it goes very fast, so I do not understand all the words.”

“What song?” Alex asked again.

“I think they’re calling it ‘The Ballad of Lizzie Loring’,” Danny said.

“Okay, but why is it a big deal?”

Angelica thought for a minute. “Let me see how I can explain it tactfully … never mind, forget tactfully. The song says that Josh Loring pimped out his wife and William Howe was the highest bidder.”

“Holy shit!”

“Yeah, and according to everything I can find out, Lizzie Loring really is having an affair with Commissioner Howe, but I’m not sure about the pimping-out part,” Angelica continued. “I can’t believe you haven’t heard it. I’ll send it to you.” She got out her phone and sent the file. “You should probably listen to it later. I’m sure it must be a crime of some sort to have it on your phone. It’s pretty funny, though.”

“Do you know who wrote it? Who sings it?”

“I think the same guy who wrote it sings it. He signs himself Hop, but I have no idea what his real name is. I think he stays pretty far underground – well, he’d have to.”

“That bad?”

“Oh, I don’t know, in normal times it would just be political satire. Now it’s probably treason.” She gave him a conspiratorial smile and leaned in closer. “The chorus says _There’s a guy named Willie Howe says he wants to fuck you now. If you’re willing, you can thrill him, and I’ll handle all the billing.”_

Alex let out a shout of laughter that caused a few people to turn and look at him. He put his hand over his face and turned to Gil. “There’s got to be a way we can use this, right?”

Gil was grinning too. “The song or the situation?”

“Either? Both?”

Gil nodded. “I think there are several possibilities.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, John and Eliza seem to have worked things out, but they still have to talk to Alex. I don't think he'll be too upset.  
> Is Marty Middicks really as stupid as he seems to be, or is there something else going on?  
> If you didn't watch the TV show "Glee," the role of the very cute Jesse St. James was played by Jonathan Groff, AKA Groffsauce AKA King George III in Hamilton. I had to get Groff into this story somehow.  
> The name Francisco is a nod to Francis Kinloch, who may or may not have been John Laurens's first love.  
> Francis Hopkinson ("Hop") was a signer of the Declaration of Independence, a musician and composer, and a promoter of music education. He wrote a satirical poem called "The Battle of the Kegs" that's pretty funny. It includes, among other things, a description of the town being under attack but Sir William Howe sleeping through it:  
> "Sir William he, snug as a flea,  
> Lay all this time a-snoring,  
> Nor dreamed of harm, as he lay warm,  
> In bed with Mrs. Loring."  
> Their affair was obviously well-known, and I figured if Hopkinson could satirize it in 1778, I could update the satire for this story. Hop makes a reappearance as a respectable composer late in Provoke Outrage.  
> I may be slow on updates over the next two months, I'm sorry to say. I have some tiresome medical stuff going on that's going to tie up some time, and then I have two out-of-town things, 3-4 days each. One's a fun family thing, where I'll get to catch up with relatives from far away, the other is a conference where I will have no free time to speak of.  
> Schedule should be back to normalish by the end of June.  
> If the updates get further apart, please don't think I'm losing interest in the story. If you subscribe (I'm sure some of you already have), you'll get emails whenever I update. Thanks for your patience, and thanks always for kudos and comments. I hope to be back soon. Love you guys. <3 <3 <3


	60. We Keep Loving Anyway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex, John, Danny, and Gil will set the trap for Marty Middicks. Eliza keeps secrets from Angelica. John and Eliza talk to Alex.

Eliza was in the shower when Angelica got back to the dorm, and it looked like she had spent part of the afternoon straightening up the already-tidy dorm room. Eliza had obviously inherited their mother’s neat habits, and usually Angelica appreciated not having to clean the room herself, but occasionally it was so neat it could be irritating. She knocked on the bathroom door.

“Who is it?” Eliza asked sharply.

Angelica opened the door a crack so she could be heard over the running water. “Duh, it’s me, who did you think?”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t hear you come in, so you surprised me.”

“Are you going to the cafeteria for dinner? If you are, I’ll wait.”

“I was hoping you’d bring me something. I’m really tired, and I just want to get into my pajamas and go to bed.”

“Okay, what do you want?”

“You know what I like, so whatever.”

“See you when I get back then.”

Angelica set off for the cafeteria on her own. She was going to bring back a nice well-balanced meal for her sister. Eliza hadn’t been eating well lately, probably because she was still stressing out about Alex Hamilton. Angelica wanted to fix that situation, but she couldn’t even be very angry with Alex because he’d been behaving himself lately. Probably just waiting for an opportunity, she told herself darkly. The only thing that would really help would be Eliza herself deciding that Alex wasn’t good for her, and Angelica just couldn’t see that happening, at least not now. Sometime in the future, after Alex had broken her heart, she’d no doubt come to that conclusion, but Angelica wanted to save her sister from a broken heart.

She didn’t see anybody she knew in the cafeteria; most of her friends had apartments off campus like John or Gil. Maybe she would talk to her parents about her and Eliza getting an apartment next year. That would be nice, and then if Peggy came to Columbia the following year, she could move right in. She’d have to see what Eliza thought about it.

The cafeteria had some cute little individual chicken pot pies with green beans on the side, and tangerines for dessert. The sugar shortage was hitting everywhere. She reminded herself that tangerines were better for them than cookies or cake anyway, and took both dinners to go back to the dorm. She found Eliza looking sleepy and comfy in her blue pajamas with owls on them and handed her one of the bags. “Chicken pie, green beans, and a tangerine,” she said. “All very healthy.”

“Mm, it smells good. Thank you.” Eliza sat on her bed with her dinner in her lap, and Angelica took the desk chair.

“We should get a table,” Angelica said for about the twentieth time.

“Where would we put it? We barely have room to walk now.”

“I was just thinking that maybe we should get an apartment next year.”

“Mm,” Eliza responded noncommittally, her mouth full of chicken pie.

Angelica narrowed her eyes. “What? You don’t think that’s a good idea?”

Eliza swallowed and took a sip of water. “I don’t know. I’d have to think about it.” She actually had been thinking about the idea of an apartment, but she and John were going to talk to Alex first. This was definitely not the time to bring up that topic with Angelica.

“I’ll be a senior next year, so we could keep the apartment after I graduate, and Peggy can move in.”

Eliza closed her eyes for a moment. She was really tired and didn’t feel much like discussing anything. She took some time to peel her tangerine and put a section in her mouth. “That would work if you decide against graduate school or a job in New York, and if Peggy decides to go to Columbia. Maybe we should wait to get more information before we make decisions.”

Angelica snorted. “That sounds like something Alex would say.”

“Yeah, he probably would, but that doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with it. Alex is smart.”

“No doubt about that.”

“Ange, I’m tired. Let’s not talk about Alex now.”

“You’re probably tired because you’re stressing about him.”

 _What would she say if I told her the truth? I’m not stressing at all about Alex now, because I know everything’s going to be all right. I’m tired because John and I wore each other out this afternoon._ She stifled a half-hysterical giggle at that and shoved another piece of tangerine in her mouth. “I’m not, really. I promise we can talk about Alex soon, but not now.”

“It’s not even nine o’clock, Eliza. Are you sick?”

“No, I’m just tired, but if you keep badgering me, I’m going to get mad, so how about we talk tomorrow?”

“Badgering?”

“Oh, for the love of God, Angelica, it’s an actual legal term that came up in class yesterday. You know, ‘badgering the witness’? I know you’ve seen it on TV.” She gathered up her trash and threw it away, then went to brush her teeth. When she came back from the bathroom, Angelica was still watching her in a troubled way. She took the three steps to the desk and put her arms around her sister. “I love you,” she said. “Don’t worry about me. I’m okay, I promise.”

“Promise?”

“Double pinky-promise.” She hooked their fingers together, just as they had when they were children.

Angelica finally smiled. “Okay, if you pinky-swear, I believe you. I have to stay up and study, though.”

“It’s fine. The desk lamp won’t bother me.” Eliza crawled into bed, pulled the covers up, and buried her face in the pillow. It smelled like John, and she breathed in his scent. Under the covers, she put her hand over the place on her stomach where he had marked her. She’d have to keep that hidden from Angelica. She had thought that maybe she could pass it off as a bruise, but when she had looked closely, the marks of John’s teeth were evident. She loved the way it had felt, and even loved the way it looked now, but explaining any of that to Angelica would be impossible. Alex would understand, though. They were going to talk to Alex soon, and he would understand exactly how exciting it was when John used his teeth.

*          *          *          *          *

“Are we still going to do that fake meeting thing with Marty Middicks?” John asked. He was sitting on the floor eating an apple while Alex tried to reprogram a phone. Two of the dark websites where they’d been buying phones had shut down, so he was hoping to reuse the ones they had with different numbers. “After what Danny told me, it sounds like Marty may be rethinking his decision to join us.”

“Marty Middicks has the IQ of a trout,” Alex muttered, tapping at a phone screen.

John thought about it. “Maybe, but you could be insulting trout. So anyway, what are we doing?”

“Oh, we’re definitely going through with it. All the more reason if Marty got one foot in and then decided to bail. He might think that giving the Greaters information about a strategy meeting will get him on their good side.”

John tossed his apple core into the trash and ran his hands through his curls. “God, I hate this shit.”

Alex looked up and met his eyes. “What shit is that, _querido?”_

“Good guys, bad guys, secret agents and spies, only with real guns and real killing.” John wasn’t smiling.

Alex got up and crossed the room to sit next to him on the floor. “C’mere,” he said, pulling John into his arms. He held him and stroked his hair for a few minutes, then kissed him softly. _“Escúchame_. If you want to be done, we’re done.”

John pulled away, shocked. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I mean it. I can call the General, and we can go somewhere, let somebody else do this.” He waved vaguely at the phones on the table. “We can finish college later.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

Alex shrugged, and John realized how exhausted he looked. He tucked a strand of Alex’s straight dark hair behind his ear and stroked his cheek, smiling at him. “Finish college later? Where? You think there will be any colleges left? You think there will be anything left if King stays in power?”

“I don’t know,” Alex replied sulkily.

“Besides, where would we hide out?”

“Montana?”

 _“Montana?_ Have you ever been to Montana?”

“No, but isn’t that where they always hide out in movies? Some isolated cabin in the woods in Montana? Or maybe Idaho.” Alex was starting to smile a little.

“Babe, you would freeze your ass off in Montana. I don’t think they even have summer in Montana. It stops snowing around the first of July, and then they celebrate the Fourth, and the snow starts again on the fifth or sixth.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, for sure. I saw a documentary on it. It was called … um … ʽFreezing Your Ass Off in Montana.’”

Alex snickered and poked him. “You idiot.”

John’s face went soft. “Yeah, but I’m your idiot. And I made you laugh.”

Alex leaned in to kiss him, really kiss him, taking his time. “How did I get so lucky?”

John put his head down on Alex’s shoulder. “That’s my question.” He sat there quietly for a while, Alex’s arm around his waist, feeling peaceful, thinking about how much he loved Alex … and Eliza. They were going to talk soon. He smiled, imagining how happy Alex would be, all the stress and guilt and misunderstanding gone. It would be nice if Eliza was here with them now. He’d talk to her tomorrow. He didn’t want to waste any more time. He turned to Alex now and spoke on a different subject. “You weren’t serious, were you? About giving up, I mean.”

Alex sighed. “No, I guess not. I get overwhelmed sometimes, but you’re right, there’s no place we can go to get away from it all. I bet there are Greaters even in Montana.”

“You know any more about where TJ might be?”

“Not a clue.”

John stretched and stood up. “I should call Danny so we can set up the fake meeting thing.”

“We’ll need four, I think,” Alex said thoughtfully. “I’ve already told Marty that he’ll be the lookout, so he’ll be in the front, but I think two of us ought to be there with him, two more in the conference room.”

“Does Marty know how to get into the conference room?”

“Oh, hell, no. He knows it exists, but he’s never been in the back, and he wouldn’t be able to find it on his own. Johnny and Mark have done a great job with the shelves, and it’s impossible to see the door now.”

John nodded. “So, you and me, Danny and Gil?”

“Us out front, them in the back?”

“Yeah, if things go south, they’re the ones who should have the guns.”

“You think Marty has laid information?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it, though, and as stupid as Marty is, he’s not so stupid that he wouldn’t have seen us coming and going from Betsy’s a lot. He could have put two and two together and come up with five that we were using Betsy’s van to transport guns or something. He might have told them to look out for the van.”

Alex chewed on his lip. “You mean when Patty and Nat were stopped in Pennsylvania?”

“Yeah.”

Alex paced a few steps. “What about Nat? Would Marty have had any information to give them that got him stopped in Massachusetts?”

“I can’t think of any, but maybe his name was on a list after the Pennsylvania stop. And you know the Greaters hassled Betsy.”

“Thank God Angelica was able to get rid of her gun that day. Are you saying all this might be because Marty has told them that anybody associated with Betsy’s is part of the movement?”

John shook his head. “I don’t think it’s that simple. As far as I know, Deb’s never been questioned. Neither has Mark or Johnny. And there are dozens of other regular customers besides us.”

Alex looked over John’s head at the angel picture for a few minutes. “Well, then, we’ll set the trap and see what we catch. We’d better ask Gabriel to keep an eye on us.”

*          *          *          *          *

John and Eliza had less than an hour before Angelica would be back, and they were doing their best to keep an eye on the clock.

“It’s time to talk to Alex,” John said. They were still naked, wrapped around each other in Eliza’s bed again.

Eliza had her head on his chest, listening to the comforting sound of his heartbeat. “Do you think he’ll be okay with it?”

“Okay with it? Are you kidding? I think he’ll be overjoyed.”

“I’m really nervous.”

“About talking to him, or about what comes after we talk?”

The question made her shiver, and John smiled as he felt it. He felt the same way about what would come next.

“Both,” Eliza said, “but I think more about talking. Is that … you know, there’s a part of my brain which keeps telling me that this isn’t normal.”

“I love you, sweetheart, but fuck your brain for acting like that.”

She laughed. “I love you too, but I can’t exactly control my thoughts.”

He propped himself up on his elbow. “Do you have any idea how many things human beings can get up to in terms of sex?”

“Probably not.”

“All I’m saying is, provided everyone is a consenting adult, it’s all normal. It’s all okay. We love who we love.”

“Yeah, I know, but some people will judge us.”

He ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her. “You worried about your family?”

“A little.” She bit her lip. “It’s like walking out on the ice when you don’t know how thick it is. There will be … consequences that we can’t see yet.”

John didn’t disagree or try to dismiss her concerns. “Yeah, there will, but we can’t predict the future. Now, right now, I love you, and I love Alex, and I want him to know that.”

“You’re braver than I am.”

He shook his head. “Bullshit. What’s that old song, ‘Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose’? This is so much easier for me than it is for you. You have parents and sisters that you love, and you know they may not understand. You don’t want to hurt them. I’m free to do whatever I want because basically, nobody cares. That’s not bravery.”

She put her hand on his face and looked up at him. “You know what, John Laurens? You go into every single day with more courage than anybody I’ve ever known.”

He laughed at that and kissed her again. “Whatever happens, I’ll have your back. I promise. If you want me to talk to your parents, I will.”

“Not yet. I need to think about how I want to tell them. For now, let’s talk to Alex and then take it from there.”

“Tonight?”

Another shiver went through her, and as he felt her tremble against him, he thought about having her and Alex both in his arms.

She nodded. “Okay, tonight.”

His face was serious, but his eyes glittered gold as he looked down at her. “Between now and then, I want you to think about how it might feel to be between Alex and me in bed tonight. Think about what you might want us to do.”

She gasped. “Oh, my God, John …”

He reached down between her legs, and then grinned at her. “Makes you wet, doesn’t it?”

She grabbed his hand and rubbed it against herself. “Fair enough. I want you to spend the afternoon thinking about what Alex and I might do. I have a feeling I could get Alex to cooperate in just about anything.”

“Ah, fuck!”

She ran her teeth over her lips. “Makes you hard, doesn’t it?”

“Damn you, Eliza!” But he was laughing.

By the time Angelica got there, they had their clothes back on but they were still giggling like kids.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

John looked blankly from her to Eliza and back again. “It’s hard to explain. You had to be there.”

Eliza ducked quickly into the bathroom and turned the tap on full so her sister wouldn’t hear her half-hysterical laughter.

Tonight.

*          *          *          *          *

Alex was updating Tony on the fake meeting they had set up to test Marty Middicks. “I’m just saying, we told him you and Ethan would both be here, and that you’d each be bringing one other person. We’re trying to make it sound like it’s an important strategy meeting.”

“Which we could actually use,” Tony said drily.

“Yeah, well, maybe we can work on that later. For now, it’s set for Tuesday at four. I don’t really expect anything much to happen, but just in case, you and Ethan might get hassled too.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“If the Greaters show up, there won’t be anything for them to find, so it will just be the kind of harassment that we’ve all been through a thousand times.”

“You’re sure this phone is secure, right?”

“Yeah, it’s the one I use to talk to the General.”

“And you’re sure that secret back room you guys have isn’t noticeable?”

“I’m telling you, it’s behind a wall of steel shelves that Betsy keeps full of containers and boxes. You have to know exactly where the latch is inset into the wall, and the door’s on a pivot.”

“Sounds interesting,” Tony commented. “Did some of your guys work on that?”

“Yeah, Mark Willett and Johnny Lamb. When we started, it was just a regular door, and we put some shelves in front of it. It was kind of hard to see, but if anybody’d looked really closely, they would have found it. Now, though, it’s pretty much undetectable.”

“I’d like to talk to those guys sometime. Maybe they could come down here and work on some stuff for us.”

“Okay, we’ll discuss that at our real strategy meeting that we’ll have after our fake strategy meeting,” Alex told him. He hesitated for a minute, then asked, “How’s Molly doing?”

”Ah, you know, good days, bad days. More bad than good right now, but I guess that changes over time. It seems to help her to keep busy, so she’s taking on everything she can. I have to be careful not to overwork her.”

”Worst part of the job, isn’t it?”

”Yeah. I just hope I don’t have to deal with it again.”

Alex said goodbye and hung up. He didn’t tell Tony that he was being unrealistic. They’d all have to deal with it again.

“Is Sylvia going to be with Marty while he’s playing lookout?” Danny asked later when Alex was briefing him.

“I don’t know,” Alex responded, momentarily nonplussed. “I haven’t thought much about Sylvia.”

“Just saying,” Danny remarked, looking at his fingernails.

“He has a point,” Gil said. “We haven’t really paid much attention to Sylvia, and, after all, she is not more stupid than Marty.”

Alex got up and walked over to the window, staring out at the brick wall of the next building. “Shit,” he muttered.

“We know Marty has a connection to a member of the Greaters, but what do we know about Sylvia’s background?”

Alex turned around and faced them. “Nothing,” he said, “because I have been so busy looking at Marty that I haven’t been paying attention to Sylvia. She was Eliza’s roommate last year, and I never even asked Eliza for background.”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Danny told him. “There are too many moving parts in all this. Nobody could keep track of everything.”

Alex glared at him, hating that Danny was making excuses for him. “It’s my job to keep track of everything,” he snapped.

 _“Calme-toi,”_ Gil said. “You have plenty of time between now and Tuesday to ask Eliza about Sylvia and maybe also to hack into the university system to get information. It is very unlikely, after all, that Sylvia is a skilled secret agent.”

Alex snorted. “True. Last year she was hanging around with Sam Seabury and Sadie Shippen. They’re not exactly the brightest crayons in the box.”

Gil nodded. “My impression when we were trying to teach her to shoot is that she is quite stupid. Of course, she could be an intelligent person pretending to be stupid, but if so, she is an extremely gifted actress.”

“I think it’s genuine stupidity,” Danny agreed.

“Even so,” Alex said, “I should have been more aware.”

“You will be next time,” Danny told him.

Alex’s phone chimed, and he looked at it. “Oh, good. John’s bringing Eliza over for dinner, so I can talk to her about Sylvia tonight.” He texted back. “That works out well.”

*          *          *          *          *

“Well,” Eliza said when John showed her his phone screen, “at least I have a good excuse to give Angelica. It would be kind of weird if you invited me to dinner but not her.” She texted her sister: _Alex needs to ask me some stuff about Sylvia. I’ll have dinner there, see you later._

Right now, she and John were in a small seating area behind some stacks in the library. Eliza had said that she didn’t want to run into anybody she knew, especially Angelica, so they were sitting in this alcove until they knew Danny and Gil had left the apartment.

“It would be just like Danny to invite himself for dinner,” she fretted now.

John leaned back, his arm across the back of the small sofa they were sitting on. “If he does, we’ll wait him out.” He smiled at her and brushed her hair off her face. “It’ll be okay.”

She nodded, her bottom lip between her teeth. “Are we actually going to eat dinner?”

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“Yes. No. I have no idea.”

He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her in. “We should probably eat something,” he said, his mouth close to her ear, “because, you know, we want to keep our strength up for …”

“Stop!” she told him, turning red, her hand over her face.

He nuzzled her neck and continued whispering. “Don’t you want to think about it, though, about what it will be like? I know you love Alex, and I know he loves you, and I love both of you, and I can’t wait to see how happy you’ll be together, how happy we’ll all be together. You don’t have to worry about hurting me, and Alex doesn’t have to feel guilty, and I don’t have to try to convince myself that I can only be friends with you. We can all just be together.”

She closed her eyes and leaned back against his arm, trying to relax.

John kept talking to her. “I can’t wait until I can see you and Alex both naked, next to each other …”

Eliza gasped.

“…next to me. You’re so beautiful, and Alex is so beautiful, and you’ll both be right there with me.” His tongue flicked into her ear, and her hips twitched, jerking against him.

“John …”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

“I have.” Her voice was shaking. “I’ve thought about it a lot.”

“Does it make you feel good?”

“… so good.”

“I can’t wait to get my hands on you.”

“What are we … how do …”

He laughed softly and kissed the spot right below her ear. “You worried about logistics?”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Don’t. We’ll figure it out.”

“You make it sound simple.”

He tightened his hold on her. “Maybe it will be simple, maybe not, but come on, sweetheart, we’re going to overthrow the whole government. We can handle this.”

She turned her head so she could kiss him. “Okay.”

It felt both familiar and completely strange to walk into the apartment. Alex was at the table as usual, doing something on his tablet. John hung up their coats and went into the kitchen.

“What are we having for dinner?” Alex asked.

John gave him a fake-shocked look. “What? You’re not cooking?”

“You wouldn’t want to eat anything I cooked.”

“We’re having chicken soup then,” John said. “It’s in the freezer. I’ll just nuke it.”

“You make the best soup,” Alex told him contentedly.

Eliza sat down on the couch, telling herself that everything would be okay. She was glad that there was soup for dinner; maybe she could swallow a few mouthfuls. She couldn’t even tell if she was hungry. She felt hollow, but whether it was hunger or nervousness, she couldn’t tell. When John brought out the bowls of soup, she took a spoonful. It was good, like everything John cooked.

“Where did you learn to make homemade soup?” she asked. “I thought only grandmas could do that.”

John gave her a faint smile. “It was a long time ago.”

That’s what John said when he didn’t want to talk about something, so she didn’t pursue it. Alex asked her a question about Sylvia, and she was so distracted, she had to ask him to repeat it.

“I think she passed everything,” she told him, “but she didn’t make really good grades. I know she was working with a tutor in math, even though she just had a basic algebra class.”

“Wasn’t there something last year about her cheating in Dr. Gates’s class?” Alex asked, frowning.

“Wow, how did you hear about that?”

“Your sister.”

Eliza rolled her eyes. “Of course. I’m pretty sure she paid a TA for a copy of the exam. I couldn’t prove it, but that was what I heard, and it was the only time she got an A on anything.”

Alex nodded. “I doubt if we have to worry about Sylvia being some sort of secret agent, then.”

John laughed. “Based on what I saw at the gun range, I could have told you that.”

“Just want to be sure.”

Eliza ate some more soup, realizing that John had been right. She was feeling less anxious because everything seemed so normal. She helped John clear the table, and once again, he pulled her into the corner of the kitchen. “You ready?” he asked, holding tight to her hand.

She nodded, and they walked back into the living room, still holding hands.

Alex looked up from his tablet, then looked puzzled, watching them as they took a seat on the couch. “What is this?” he asked.

“Eliza and I want to talk to you,” John said.

“Okay.” Alex sounded wary.

Eliza’s grip on John’s hand was so tight that she was afraid she was hurting him. “I think we’ve figured something out,” she said.

“What do you mean?” Alex asked.

“Eliza and I have been … talking,” John told him.

Alex was still staring at them. “You’re holding hands,” he pointed out, a little too loudly.

John nodded. “Yeah, we are. Like I was saying, we’ve been working our way through some stuff.”

Alex chewed on his lip. “What kind of stuff?”

Eliza finally smiled at him. “Oh, Alex, stuff about you, of course.”

There was a full minute of complete silence, and then Alex’s eyes went wide. “Oh, my God,” he said. “Oh, my fucking God.”

John held out his hand. “C’mere.”

Alex crossed the room in three steps and grabbed John’s hand. He dropped to his knees in front of them, looking back and forth, and tears came to his eyes. “Tell me,” he whispered.

“John and I were alone one day, and … well, things started to happen,” Eliza told him.

“Things?”

“Things like this.” John let go of Eliza’s hand and twisted his fingers in her hair, bringing her mouth to his. She melted into him, and they kissed for a long time, showing off for Alex. John got Eliza’s lip between his teeth, and she whimpered.

“Oh, fuuuck,” Alex moaned.

John licked her lip one more time and turned back to Alex. “So we gave ourselves some time to think about it and talk about it, and eventually work our way through it, and we finally came to the conclusion …” He stopped and gave a noisy sigh. “You have no idea how much I hate telling you this, but you’ve been completely right all along. It really is possible to be in love with more than one person.”

Alex was half-laughing, half-crying. “You told me you didn’t like girls.”

“I don’t,” John declared. “It’s not girls, plural, it’s Eliza.” He kissed her, then leaned down to kiss Alex.

Alex got up onto the couch so that Eliza was between them. He took her face between his hands and looked into her eyes. “Really?” he whispered.

“Really, really,” she told him.

He kissed her eyelids softly, and then her mouth, starting gently and then continuing less gently as she kissed him back with all the passion she’d tried to control until now.

“Oh, my God,” he said again. He looked over at John. “When you say you worked your way through it, do you mean you ... uh … explored all aspects of the relationship?”

John grinned. “Every fucking aspect I could think of.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Alex gasped. “Oh, fuck. I’m going to die just thinking about it.”

Eliza choked back a giggle. “Don’t do that.”

“Please don’t,” John said, “because I can’t tell you how much I’ve been looking forward to showing you how we both feel about you.” He leaned across Eliza to kiss Alex, and when Alex turned his head, Eliza started kissing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I’m going to fucking die right here,” Alex breathed.

John stood up, taking Eliza by the hand, and held out his other hand to Alex. “Come on,” he said, nodding toward the bedroom.

They took a few steps, and then Alex stopped. “I love you,” he whispered. “I love you both so much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, John, Eliza, and Alex are finally all on the same page, and a very interesting page it is. What will happen when Eliza tells Angelica?  
> Will Marty Middicks be caught in the trap, or are he and Sylvia actually innocent? If Marty's not the mole, who is?  
> I know I said after the last chapter that I wouldn't be updating for a while, but things have worked out better than I expected. I'll still be a little slow till mid-June, but I'll be posting more often than I thought.  
> Thanks as always for kudos and comments. I love hearing from you.


	61. Need to Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex, John, and Eliza spend some time together. Angelica is upset. Tim gets permission to see Patty's mother. The Inner Circle reviews the plan to test Marty Middicks, then the plan is put into action at Betsy's.

Alex, no surprise, had his clothes off first, and then he reached for Eliza. “Come here,” he said and put his arm around her. She hadn’t gotten any farther than taking off her shirt, and she had a pale blue camisole under it.

John still had his jeans on and Alex kissed him softly, his arm around Eliza. “Why don’t you help Eliza get undressed?” he asked.

John looked at her, his eyes glinting gold from under his lashes. He eyed the camisole. “Well, that just goes over your head, right?”

“Right,” she nodded, her eyes on his, and raised her arms as he pulled it off. Her bra was white, nothing special. She hadn’t dressed up for the occasion.

Alex surprised her by moving behind her and unfastening the bra while she stood facing John. John caught Alex’s eye over her shoulder, and reached to unbutton her jeans, standing close. She could feel her heart racing. A part of her brain told her faintly, _You’re going to have sex with two men at once. That’s not normal._ She did her best to ignore the thought, and the excitement racing through her made it easier. _It’s going to be normal for us,_ she thought. _I love them both. This is who we are._

Alex threw her bra on the floor and put his arms around her from behind, his hands cupping her breasts. John took off his jeans and boxers, still holding her gaze, and she gave a faint whimper as Alex’s thumbs caressed her nipples. John dropped his eyes to watch Alex’s hands as they fondled her.

“You know what she likes?” he asked Alex.

“What?”

“She likes us to tell her what we’re going to do.”

 _Us. We._ Eliza gasped and shivered.

Alex still had his hands on her, and John was still watching.

“You start,” Alex said.

John smiled and took Eliza’s face between his hands. “I’m going to kiss you while Alex takes the rest of your clothes off, baby girl. Then we’re going to put you on the bed, and we’re going to get our hands on you.” He put his mouth on hers and held her in place while Alex unzipped her jeans and pulled them down. Her whimpering was muffled by his tongue playing with hers as Alex reached back up to take off her underpants. He did it slowly, slipping his hands into them and pulling them down with his hands sliding down her legs. She pushed herself against John, and he whispered, “Hang onto me.” She did, and he lifted her onto the bed.

“We’re putting her in the middle, right?” he said to Alex.

“Oh, yeah.” Alex lay down on Eliza’s right side and tossed his hair back. “John and I are going to touch you everywhere, sweetheart. We’re going to do everything we can to make you feel good.”

John had his mouth close to her ear. “You okay with this, baby girl?” he whispered.

“Mm-hmm. Maybe a little nervous,” she answered honestly.

“S’okay,” John told her. He bent to kiss her slowly, sliding his tongue along the inside of her lip, while Alex murmured to her on the other side, “You’ve been with John and me before and it was good, right?”

“Mm-hmm.”

There was something disorienting about listening to Alex while her mouth was occupied with John. Then she felt a hand slide over her breast, and she didn’t know whose it was, and that sent another shiver through her. A finger traced the faint trace of the mark that John had left, and then trailed down to the one just above her navel. “Oh, _mi amor,_ look what you did.” It was Alex’s hand, then.

“Did you like that, baby girl?” Alex asked her, and John moved away to let her answer.

She turned her head toward Alex. “Yeah, I did.”

Alex’s eyes met John’s over her. “John likes to bite.”

John smiled. “Go ahead, show her.”

Alex turned so that she could see the back of his shoulder, the mark deep purple, edged in red, identical to the one on her stomach. She caught her breath, and Alex bent to kiss her now that John had moved out of the way. Alex’s tongue slid around hers as John put his mouth on her breast, his teeth on her nipple, not biting, just holding, so that she could feel the sharpness. She moaned into Alex’s mouth and he broke away long enough to say, “It really turns John on when you make noise.”

That brought another sound out of her, and her hips twitched. She reached down and surprised John by taking him in her hand, running her thumb up and down.

“Ah, shit, darlin’, that feels good,” John muttered, pushing closer to her.

Alex propped himself up on his elbow, all his attention focused on her hand on John. John kissed her throat and got his teeth on her ear, then whispered. “I bet you’re wet, baby girl. I want to feel how wet you are.”

She whimpered and felt herself getting wetter just from hearing him say it, and he slid a finger in, then another one, circling them inside her.

“Give me your hand,” John said to Alex. He took Alex’s hand, folded back two fingers, and guided the others into her.

She ground down onto his hand, and she heard Alex say, _“Jesus.”_

“Does it feel good, baby girl?” John whispered in her ear.

“It’s good, it’s so good …”

“Just keep thinking about it,” he told her, and brought his hand back between her legs, inserting one finger, then two, so that now each of them had two fingers in her, stretching her, but she was so wet there was no pain, just a tightness that felt wonderful.

Alex pulled his fingers out and wiped them on Eliza’s thumb that was still stroking John.

“You want to watch?” John asked him.

“Oh, fuck, yeah.”

“Alex wants a show, baby girl,” John said, and Eliza felt reality falling away. She wasn’t thinking anymore, just feeling, feeling John’s fingers inside her, Alex’s mouth now on her breast, tonguing her nipple. She wanted more of everything.

She said it. “I want more.” Why not? Why be afraid to speak up?

“Give her more, John,” Alex ordered, his voice thick.

John got his thumb on her clit and at the same time, curled his fingers up and pushed hard into her nerve center, and she moaned, thrusting her hips up.

“Jesus, you’re both so beautiful like this,” Alex told them. His breath was coming so fast he could barely get the words out. “John, let me watch you fuck her.”

John’s eyes met his. “You sure that’s what you want?”

“God, yeah. Please.”

Eliza was so wet now that John’s fingers were practically dripping. He circled them again, slowly, as she tried to push down. He looked back at Alex, wanting everything to be clear. “And then?”

“Yeah, then me. I want to know we were both inside her tonight.”

Eliza let out a long sigh, and then, “Yes, yes, please.”

Alex adjusted himself at the head of the bed so that he could lean over Eliza and watch. He took her breasts in his hands, playing with them as John got the condom on, and he continued as John entered her, and she pushed up toward him. Alex watched John move, watched him slide deep into Eliza, watched how she rolled her hips up for him. It was all he could do to keep his hands off himself, but he wanted to see everything. As John moved all the way into her, his eyes closed and his curls fell forward. Eliza’s eyes were wide and unfocused, her pupils so dilated he couldn’t see the brown border. Her lips were parted, and she was panting and whimpering, gasping every time John pushed in. Alex caressed her breasts, stroked her stomach, and then leaned forward to rest his hands lightly on her hips, so he could feel her quivering as John moved. Within minutes, her hips began to jerk under Alex’s hands, and she let out a long, keening wail. John thrust into her hard, threw his head back and opened his eyes to see Alex close to him. His face lit with the most beautiful smile Alex had ever seen, and John leaned forward to kiss him as Eliza trembled under him.

Alex was overwhelmed by how beautiful they were. He bent to kiss Eliza as her spasms slowed, and she whimpered into his mouth as John laid his head against her breast. When she finished, Alex kissed John, then moved just a little to go from John’s mouth to Eliza’s breast. John got one hand in Alex’s hair and the other in Eliza’s hair and just held on tightly. Eliza was still murmuring, “Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God …” Alex kept telling them both how much he loved them, his voice choked with emotion.

John moved to the side, one arm around Eliza, the other reaching across her to hold onto Alex, the three of them pressed tightly together. Eliza let out a long sigh and turned to kiss Alex. “I never imagined anything could feel this good,” she said.

“You’re still okay?” Alex asked softly.

“Okay?” she repeated, “Alex, I’ve thought about this so much and felt guilty for even thinking about it, but it’s wonderful.”

John pressed himself against her back. “This is the best thing that ever happened to me,” he said. “I didn’t know if I’d ever find somebody who wanted to love me, and to have both of you – it’s so much more than I ever hoped for.” He kissed Alex over Eliza’s shoulder, then kissed Eliza’s neck, and then Alex began to rub himself against Eliza. She sighed, and he rolled on top of her, and she opened her legs for him.

John tangled his fingers in her hair and held her in place to continue kissing her as Alex pressed against her. Then John hooked his leg over hers to pull it toward him and open her up more for Alex. That made her make that noise that he liked so much, the noise that might have turned into a scream if she hadn’t choked it off. She was trying to push her hips up toward Alex, but John held her down, and she tried to twist away from him, whispering, “Please, please,” because she wanted Alex inside her. John gave her one more long, deep kiss, then moved his leg, and she pushed up to take Alex all the way in. He was thicker than John, stretching her tight, making her feel completely full. Alex’s thumb was stroking her clit, and John sucked her nipples, first one and then the other, until she was aware of nothing but sensation, every part of her body hypersensitized, every touch, inside or out, magnified like an electric current. She began to shake again, and Alex moved faster and deeper. As he did, John bit into the soft flesh just below Eliza’s collarbone and sucked hard, and she arched herself against Alex, screaming.

The three of them fell together in a hot, sweaty, sticky tangle, Eliza gasping, but trying to kiss both John and Alex at the same time. It was a while before any of them could talk coherently. Finally John said, “I told you we’d figure out the logistics, baby girl.”

Eliza laughed against his shoulder, and Alex snuggled in tighter and said, “I’m still not completely sure I didn’t die.”

Eliza ran her hand over his hip and said, “Oh, you were very much alive.”

“Oh, shit,” Alex responded, “that could start things all over again.”

“I’m okay with that,” John said.

“Maybe we could just make love all the time,” Eliza suggested, her voice soft and sleepy. “Just stay here and do nothing else.”

“I would definitely die,” Alex said and kissed her thoroughly. “God, Eliza, you are so beautiful and so soft and warm.”

They held her so tightly she could barely move, but she wriggled between them a little so they could both feel her softness.

John ran his teeth along her throat. “Jesus, darlin’, you make me want to bite you again. Just want to get my teeth in and suck on that pretty, pretty skin, and ...”

Eliza sat up suddenly. “Where’s my phone?”

“Your _phone?_ ” Alex asked.

“I need to text Angelica.”

Alex looked at John. “Well, there’s a mood killer.”

“For sure,” John agreed.

“Shut up,” Eliza told them. “I either have to go back to the dorm or tell her I’m sleeping here.”

Alex smiled up at her. “You’re sleeping here, right?”

“Of course she is,” John said. “We just got her here, we can’t let her go now.”

Eliza took a deep breath, climbed over Alex with some difficulty because he grabbed her ankle, and looked around on the floor for her clothes. She finally gave up and pulled on Alex’s tee shirt, not even bothering with underwear. The tee shirt was long enough. She took her phone out of her purse and thought for a few minutes about how to phrase her text. She finally went with the simplest message possible: _I’m sleeping at John & Alex’s tonight. Don’t worry, everything’s fine. I’ll talk to you tomorrow._ She would have to do that, she knew. This wasn’t something she could keep from her sister. She sent the text and almost immediately got a response, which didn’t surprise her. _You’re sleeping there? Why? Do you need a ride?_

Eliza sighed and texted back: _Everything is okay. Don’t need a ride. We’ll talk tomorrow._

Angelica sent back a raised-eyebrow emoji face, but it was followed by a heart, so she was probably confused but not upset. She would be upset, though, when she learned the truth. Eliza sat staring at her phone screen for a few minutes, then she heard the shower go on in the bathroom and Alex called, “I’m lonely. Come back to bed.”

*          *          *          *          *

The conversation was even worse than she’d thought it would be. Angelica stood stock-still in the middle of the room. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Ange, please try to understand …”

“You have lost your mind. I knew Alex had you wrapped around his little finger, but this … this is insane.”

“It’s _not_ – and it’s not all about Alex. I love John too.”

Angelica crossed to the sink, filled the kettle, and slammed it onto the counter. “Alex gets everything he wants, though, doesn’t he?”

“It’s what I want too. It’s what John wants.”

“I’m sure he’s convinced you of that,” Angelica snapped, getting out mugs and banging cupboard doors.

“Ange, listen to yourself. You’re talking as if John and I can’t think for ourselves. You’ve known me my whole life. You know I’m not an idiot.”

Angelica looked away. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Really? Because that’s what it sounds like. In the last nineteen years, when have you known me to be talked into doing something I really believed was wrong?”

There was silence. Angelica was honest enough to know that it was she, not Eliza, who might act before she thought. Eliza had stayed away from drugs and drinking parties in high school. _I don’t like my brain to get fuzzy,_ she had said. She’d had sex with a couple of boys, but only boys she’d dated for a while and had really cared about. Angelica had been the one pushing the envelope. Maybe that’s why she was so upset. She finally looked up and met her sister’s eyes. “If I’d slept with two guys, it would have been just for fun. I probably would have been drunk.”

“Yeah,” Eliza said.

“But if you did it, it’s serious.”

“And that’s why you’re so upset? Because it’s a serious relationship instead of some sort of sexual adventure?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Angelica turned around and poured hot water over the teabags. “Are you going to move in with them?”

“Not yet, at least not unless you want me out of here.”

“Why would you even say that?” Angelica looked angry, but handed her sister a cup of tea.

“Because I know you’re mad at me, and I understand that. I do, really, Ange, but I don’t know how mad you are. This is all new to me too. There’s never been this kind of issue that could come between us before.”

Angelica stirred milk into her tea, staring at her cup. “What happens when it’s over?”

“Why are you assuming it’s going to be over?”

Angelica was still again for a moment. She sighed and looked up at her sister. “Are you telling me you honestly think there’s going to be some sort of happily-ever-after for the _three_ of you?”

“Lots of people stay with their college sweethearts. Mom and Dad …”

“You probably shouldn’t use that example when you tell them about your new relationship.”

“I’m not going to tell them yet,” Eliza said quietly.

Angelica sniffed. “That’s no surprise.”

“Look, you just admitted that you realize this is an actual relationship. I didn’t get into it to act out some three-way porn fantasy. I’m in love with two people. So is John. So is Alex. You don’t have to understand it, but you’re my sister, and I love you, and I wish you would trust my judgment.” Eliza had done her best to remain calm through the whole discussion, but her voice broke on the word _sister_ , and her eyes filled with tears.

Angelica’s mouth twisted as she tried to hold back her own tears. She loved Eliza more than anyone else in the world, and all she wanted to do was save her from heartbreak. More than ten years ago, when the blindfold game in the woods had ended with Eliza’s broken wrist, it was Eliza who lied to protect them all. Angelica was the one who felt the guilt of the oldest, the one who should have known better. Her twelve-year-old self had vowed then never to lead Eliza into anything dangerous again, and she never had, but now Eliza was putting herself in a situation that would surely end in sorrow and disaster.

“I don’t know what to do,” she said, her voice low and shaky. It was a rare admission, and Eliza knew how much it cost her to say it.

Eliza held out her arms. “Could you just still love me?”

*          *          *          *          *

Alex met Gil for coffee so he could tell him about his changed relationship status. Gil simply held up his hand and said, “Please do not give me more information than I want.”

“We just kind of wanted our friends to know,” Alex explained.

“Fine. I know. I am neither surprised nor shocked.”

“You’re not surprised?”

Gil smiled at him. “Alex, you are not nearly as unusual as you would like to think you are. Anyone who spent any time with you three could not be surprised. If you are happy, I am happy for you. All of you.” He shrugged. “We love who we love. With so much heartbreak in this world, we’re lucky to find love. We should take it where we find it.”

Alex nodded. “You’re right. I know how lucky we are.” He drank some coffee and looked across the table at Gil, who talked a lot about love, but had only a series of casual girlfriends. “Are you seeing anybody now?” he asked, as off-handedly as he could.

Gil shook his head, still smiling. “Seeing? No, not really, just fucking.”

Alex winced. “More than I needed to know.”

Gil nodded. “I’m glad you understand.”

John had an equally mundane conversation with Herc in a lounge in the textile arts building. When he explained that he was now in a relationship with both Alex and Eliza, Herc rolled his eyes. “No shit.”

“What do you mean?”

“John, the three of you have been heart-eyeing each other for nearly a year.”

“Really? Me and Eliza too?”

“Do you have any idea how many times you and Eliza have cuddled on the couch together?”

“Well, yeah, but it just always felt, you know, normal, so … oh.”

Herc laughed. “I love you, man, but your self-awareness level is below zero.”

Alex was concerned that Tim’s reaction might be a little different than Gil’s or Herc’s. When Alex invited him and Danny over for pizza, though, Tim’s response was mild. “I thought that might be happening.”

John looked at Alex. “Apparently we were the only ones who hadn’t figured it out.”

“I thought maybe you just didn’t want to talk about it,” Tim said.

Danny was leaning on his elbow with a slice of pizza in the other hand. “Old news, guys,” he told them.

“What, you saw it coming too?” John asked.

Danny swallowed his bite of pizza and looked at John sideways. “Like a freight train.”

John leaned over and swiped the pepperoni off Danny’s slice, and there was a brief scuffle that Alex had to referee. While John and Danny were amicably clearing the table, Alex looked at Tim seriously. “We okay?” he asked.

Tim’s smile was a little tired. “I literally owe you guys my life, Alex. I don’t have all the answers just because it says _Reverend_ before my name, but one thing I know is I’ve got no business condemning people for loving each other.”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” Alex said as John and Danny joined them in the living room.

“Oh, and there’s something else I want to talk to you about, but you got in first with your news.”

“What’s up?”

“I’ve finally gotten permission to see Fran Manning.”

“That’s great! When?”

“My appointment’s in a couple of weeks. I’m just hoping nothing interferes between now and then.”

It had taken miles of red tape and hours of paperwork for Tim to get cleared as a “spiritual advisor,” despite his perfectly valid status as the pastor of a church. They had even begun to worry that Fran had been transferred to a different prison, or, worse, that she had died, because it was almost impossible to get information on anyone who was being held for sedition.

As it was, Tim would have only fifteen minutes with Fran, and he wanted to be sure he made the most of it. He would not be permitted to be alone with her, and they assumed all conversation would be recorded. He was allowed to bring her personal care products like soap and toothpaste, as well as religious items.

“I’ve got a Bible for her,” Tim said. “I’d take her some other books to read, but that’s not permitted.  I’m surprised King hasn’t banned the Bible yet, but I guess even he has to pay lip service to the First Amendment.”

“Some soap and a Bible,” Alex repeated, looking disgusted. “It’s not much.”

“I was thinking,” Tim went on, “since I’m allowed to get her soap or shampoo, maybe Eliza would pick out some nice ones for her. Like I said, it’s not much, but whatever we could do to make things even a little better for her …”

“Yeah, we can do that,” John said. “I’ve got a Have ID for Eliza, so we can go to the fancy stores and get her some decent stuff.” He stopped and looked at Tim. “She’ll want to know about Patty.”

Tim shook his head. “It would be too dangerous. We’ll be monitored every minute, I’m sure. I know Patty’s out of the country, but there are still some extradition treaties in place, and I couldn’t risk it.”

“Damn,” Alex said. “You can’t tell her the one thing she wants to know.”

“Actually,” Tim remarked, “I have an idea.”

*          *          *          *          *

“The real question is, do you think Marty Middicks is a mole?” Herc asked.

“Not really,” Alex responded.

“Probably,” Danny said at the same time.

Herc rolled his eyes. “Alex first.”

“Honestly, I don’t think he’s smart enough. Imagine going to work as a double agent, and not even realizing it would be a dead giveaway if some people on the other side – that’s us – saw you fraternizing with the Greaters. If Marty is really spying on us, he’s the worst spy ever.”

Herc nodded. “Anybody else?” he asked, looking around the room.

It was the night before before the fabricated strategy meeting. Alex had called the Inner Circle together to get everybody’s input, and they were at the apartment rather than Betsy’s because if the Greaters were watching Betsy’s, two meetings in a row would definitely raise suspicion.

Eliza frowned. “Wouldn’t it really depend on what they wanted Marty to do? I mean, I know he’s no genius, but what if he’s only supposed to report what he sees and hears? Nobody’s saying he’s working out some elaborate plot.”

“Marty could be faking it,” Angelica offered, speaking more to Eliza than Herc or Alex. She’d been much more reticent with Alex and John since Eliza’s relationship with them had changed. “He could be acting dumb as a cover.”

“I’ve had classes with him,” Alex told her. “He’s actually dumb.”

“Well, you know him better than I do,” Angelica said without argument.

Angelica’s reserve was starting to get on Alex’s nerves, but for Eliza’s sake, he didn’t respond directly to what she said. He spoke to everyone. “The thing we have to keep in mind is that there is definitely someone laying information on us, someone considered reliable enough that it went as far as Albany. That’s serious. The way I see it, this fake meeting drama is more to rule Marty out than because I expect him to do anything.”

Herc turned to Danny. “Okay, why do you think Marty is the mole?”

“More by process of elimination than anything else,” Danny said. “We know it’s not any of us because we all knew Patty was going to France, and the Greaters went looking for her in Albany. The rest of the people who are involved in the Movement, people like Deb or Johan, say, don’t have enough information to be useful. Not that Marty does, but he’s really an outsider. Like Eliza said, he’s just reporting what he sees and hears.”

“Would that be enough for the Greaters to want to bother with him?” Tim asked.

“It could be a preparatory phase,” Gil suggested. “For now he reports only very basic information, but then, as we accept him into the group, his information becomes more complex and more important.”

Alex bit his lip. “When you put it like that, it sounds much more probable, Gil.”

John looked at Alex. “I think we should take that idea seriously.”

Alex nodded. “Okay, then. Tomorrow at four, we’re setting a trap at Betsy’s. You all need to know the details, so listen carefully. Danny and Gil will be in the conference room with their weapons. John and I will be out front having coffee with Marty and Sylvia. Marty thinks we’re going to be the lookouts so we can warn the important people in the conference room if the Greaters are coming. Here’s what we’ve told him: if we see Greaters approaching, he and Sylvia are to hold them off in any way they can, delay them with questions, or answer their questions incorrectly, whatever, while John and I get to the back room and get all the important visitors out the back door.”

John picked up the explanation. “The reality is, though, that if the Greaters do show up, Alex and I stay out front too. I’ll text Gil a code word that we have set up, and he and Danny will be out the back door in two minutes or less.”

“So why are Gil and Danny there in the first place?” Tim asked. “Wouldn’t it be easier to leave the back room empty?”

Alex nodded. “It would, but there is always the possibility that things might not go smoothly and we may need back-up. I hope that’s not the case, but if it is, we’ll be grateful to have them there.”

“I have a different code word for that,” John told him. “One word for _get out the back door_ , and another one for _help_.”

“Let’s hope you don’t need either of those words,” Tim said.

“What IDs are we using?” Danny asked.

“Just our own,” Alex told him. “If anything does go down, they’ll already know who we are, and carrying fake ID would only make things worse.”

“It’s so much more fun to have a secret identity,” Danny sighed.

Tim looked at Danny. “Fun, he says.”

Danny grinned at him. “Don’t worry, Rev. We’ll be fine.”

*          *          *          *          *

Gil and Danny were in the conference room by three forty-five the next afternoon. Gil had told John that he was planning on taking a nap and hoped there wouldn’t be any interruptions. John and Alex arrived to find Marty and Sylvia already seated at a table as far from the counter as possible. Alex went to sit down with them while John gave their order to Betsy, who was behind the counter with Deb and Johnny.

“Isn’t that Sylvia Johnson?” Deb asked. “She looks like she’s lost twenty pounds since last semester.”

John glanced over at Sylvia. He hadn’t really paid attention, but Deb was right. Sylvia was painfully thin. He felt a small pang of guilt, remembering that her family was going through real difficulty.

“I hear she’s got stuff going on at home,” he said to Deb. “She might not be able to come back in September.”

“Fucking King,” Johnny muttered. That comment had become a standard response to any statement about misfortune.

John nodded. “Second that.”

Betsy handed him their coffees. “Tell Alex I put extra sugar in his today.” She looked over John’s shoulder at the half dozen or so other customers but none of them were paying attention. Even so, she whispered when she spoke to John. “New black market dealer.”

“Alex will be happy to hear that.”

Alex was very happy to hear that when John gave him the coffee. “I love you, Betsy!” he yelled across the room.

Betsy laughed and blew him a kiss and everyone except Marty and Sylvia seemed to be in a good mood. Marty was very tense, and Sylvia just looked terrified.

“Hey, there’s no reason to be nervous, really,” John said to her. “Worst case scenario, we get questioned by the Greaters, but we’ve dealt with that before.”

She nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“How long do you think we should stay here?” Marty asked Alex.

Alex pretended to consider the question. “Well, with the meeting scheduled for four, if nothing has happened by four-thirty, that probably means we can call all clear. The meeting will be over by five anyway.”

“Only an hour?”

“These guys are very efficient,” Alex said. “They’re not here to chat.”

Sylvia looked even more nervous and took a sip of her coffee. “What do you mean _if nothing has happened_? What do you think might happen?” her voice was barely above a whisper.

“I just mean if the Greaters haven’t arrived,” Alex told her. He looked out the front window at the very ordinary street scene. There were no flashing lights or sirens. It was already a few minutes after four and absolutely nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He took another sip of his extra-sweet coffee.

The bomb went off at exactly seven minutes after four, with a sound like the sky cracking open. The front window blew out, and pieces of floor and furniture flew through the air before they even knew what was happening. Alex turned to where John had been and saw him on the floor, but he looked okay, not bleeding, just swearing nonstop. Sylvia was sitting on the floor crying and Marty was crouched next to her. Alex ran to where the counter had been. It took that long for his hearing to catch up with his sight, and he heard the screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ends on a completely different note from where it began. Things are not good at the moment, but you won't know who's hurt and who's safe until the next chapter. The less urgent, but no less important question is, what does this bombing tell us about Marty Middicks and his involvement with the Greaters? He did choose a table very far from the counter ...  
> Thank you all for reading this story, and thank you especially for kudos and comments. Please tell me what you think.


	62. Devastation Reigned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex, John, and eventually others deal with the aftermath of the bomb. The building is badly damaged, and there are injuries ranging from minor to fatal. Emergency services don't show up, and Alex must make one decision after another to save as many lives as he can.  
> Angelica offers Alex some reassuring words. Herc and Gil commit larceny.

Screaming. Who was screaming? A girl standing a few feet from where the counter had been, looking down at the floor, hands on her head, screaming, sobbing. Alex followed her gaze. He couldn’t do anything for her friend on the floor. They’d been at the table right in front of the counter. The girl on the floor had smiled when Betsy had blown him a kiss. She’d been hit directly and half of her head was gone. Her friend …

Alex moved on, assessing the scene. There were live wires hanging from the ceiling, some of them sparking. He yelled, “Somebody cut the power!”

No one responded until he saw Danny climbing over the debris in what had been the doorway to the back hallway. _Danny’s okay. Good. Where the hell is Gil?_

“Danny! Find the breaker panel. Cut the power.”

Danny understood, nodded, climbed back down to get to the office.

Something was burning. He looked in the direction of the kitchen and realized that the wooden shelves had caught fire. _Fire extinguisher. It should be in the kitchen. I can’t get to the kitchen._

Johnny Lamb staggered out of the kitchen, silhouetted against the fire. He held his right hand to his head, trying to stop the stream of blood pouring down his face. His left arm hung limp at his side. His eyes met Alex’s. “Deb?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

Fire extinguisher. John was beside him. Thank God. Grabbed his hand. “We need the fire extinguisher. Probably in the kitchen.”

John looked to the right, where customers placed orders. “I think I can get over that,” he said, scrutinizing the pile of broken wood, metal, and plastic.

“Be careful,” Alex told him, and let him go.

Marty showed up, white as a ghost. “What can I do?”

_Would Marty have planted a bomb in a place he and his girlfriend were going to be? Later._

“Can you help Johnny? He needs to go to a hospital.”

Marty looked at the pile of debris between himself and Johnny, looked at the fire. He swallowed hard, then nodded, went to the far end of the room where John had climbed over. “Johnny,” he yelled, “come down here.”

Johnny wiped the blood out of his eyes and took a few steps. Marty climbed up on the precarious pile of shattered wall, held out his hand, and somehow managed to pull Johnny over it.

“Get him to a hospital,” Alex ordered. “Where’s Sylvia?”

“Here,” she said, behind him. Her face was so pale it looked gray.

“Get help. Call 911, whatever.”

Sylvia nodded and climbed through where the front window had been. They all knew 911 didn’t always respond. There were no sirens. There should be sirens by now. _We have to do this ourselves. Where the hell is Gil?_

The wires stopped sparking suddenly. Danny had found the breaker. The smell of smoke and cordite was thick. Things were hanging from the ceiling. _Fuck! What was above Betsy’s? Storage? Apartments? He’d never paid any attention._

He turned around. “If you can walk, if you can get out, go. See if you can get help. We don’t know if the ceiling might come down.” A handful of people straggled out. There was somebody on the floor still crying. He looked down, annoyed. _We don’t have time for this._ It was the dead girl’s friend.

“You have to go,” he told her sternly. “It’s not safe here.”

Her face was filthy with dust and tears. “Cassie …”

He grabbed her shoulders and yanked her up. “She’s gone. Go. Get out.” He turned her around and shoved her, and she stumbled out.

There were visible flames in the kitchen now, and he couldn’t see John. Betsy had been at the counter, Deb next to her. Johnny must have been in the kitchen.

Gil’s voice next to him. _Thank God._ “That beam won’t hold,” he said. He was waving at where the wall between the front of the store and the kitchen had stood.

Alex looked up. There was a heavy horizontal beam all the way across from the right wall to the left, but parts of it were sagging.

“What’s above it?”

“Three more floors.”

“Fuck. Can we brace it?”

Gil looked around, trying to find anything that could be used to support the sagging beam, even for a short time. There was nothing. He shook his head. “Where are Deb and Betsy?”

Alex nodded at the pile of debris where the counter had been.

_“Ah, putain!”_ Gil spat.

Danny was back, descending the broken boards and studs carefully but efficiently. “Ceiling’s going to come down,” Alex told him briefly.

Danny nodded. “We should work fast, then.”

John had emptied the fire extinguisher into the flames in the kitchen, subduing them at least temporarily. “Back wall’s going to catch fire soon,” he reported. His eyes met Alex’s. “We have to at least see if they’re alive.”

They were the only ones there now, and help wasn’t coming. Gil unceremoniously dragged the dead girl out of their way, took an abandoned jacket off of a chair and covered her head with it.

John crouched down, trying to see where to start. “It’s like fucking Jenga,” he muttered.

“Sh!” Danny said suddenly.

There was a faint sound coming from under the fallen counter. John got down on his knees. “Deb? Betsy?”

It was Deb. “Betsy’s next to me,” she said, her voice sounding choked. “I think she’s unconscious, but she’s breathing.”

“Okay, good,” Alex told her. “How about you?”

“I’m stuck. There’s something heavy on my chest. Is Johnny …?”

“He’s fine,” Alex lied. “Needs a few stitches is all. He’s already on his way to the hospital.”

Deb choked back a sob.

“We’re going to get you out,” John told her. “Just give us a few minutes.”

There was a crowd gathering on the sidewalk out front. Danny went out to talk to them while Gil conferred with John and Alex.

“Deb’s probably got broken ribs, and she’s obviously got chest compression,” he told them. “We’ve got to get the weight off her, whatever it is.”

John sat back on his heels and stared at the pile of debris. It was made up of not only the counter but most of the kitchen wall and parts of the ceiling. “We have to start from the top, but how the hell? It’s over our heads.”

“Ladder?” Alex suggested, although he thought it was a crazy idea.

Gil shoved his hair off his face, looking worried. “It’ll take too long. The ceiling beam is already bending further.”

He was right. Alex could see that the sagging part of the beam was lower than it had been.

Danny came back in. “I got help,” he said. “Johan and Nate are on their way. Left messages for everybody else. A couple of neighborhood guys have fire extinguishers and they’re going to try to get in the back door and keep the fire under control. And this is Jacob.”

Jacob was about forty, with gray hair under his watch cap. “I’m a fireman,” he told them. “Well, I was, before the volunteer companies were dissolved. I was never a professional, but I fought a lot of fires and got a lot of people out of collapses like this.”

Alex held out his hand. “I’m Alex. This is John, Gil, and I guess you already know Danny. We’ve got two people under this. Deb is conscious and talking, but something heavy is on her chest and she’s having trouble breathing. Betsy’s unconscious, but she’s breathing. We don’t know about any other injuries.”

“You sure there are only two?”

Alex shook his head slowly. “We were looking for Deb and Betsy. They work here, but there could be customers that were trapped as well. I couldn’t tell you how many people were in here, just that it wasn’t crowded.”

Gil pointed to the ceiling. “We’re worried about that beam.”

Jacob looked up. “Oh, fuck,” he said.

*          *          *          *          *

Eliza was on her way back to the dorm after her three o’clock class when she heard the explosion. Everyone in the courtyard stopped at the same time, looking around, asking the obvious question, “What the hell was that?”

The noise seemed to have come from a few blocks north, near Amsterdam Avenue. She opened her phone, but there was no news alert; maybe it was just a sonic boom. Everyone else seemed to be going about their business, so she did her best to shake off a feeling of uneasiness and continued toward the dorm. She was almost there when Kat Livingston caught up with her.

“Danny Phoenix just called my brother,” she said. “A bomb went off at Betsy’s. I thought you should know.”

Eliza felt like all the air had been sucked out of her lungs. She tried to answer Kat, but couldn’t seem to put words together. Finally, she gasped, “Alex and John?”

“I don’t know,” Kat responded, tears of sympathy gathering in her eyes. “You go. I’ll tell Angelica.”

Eliza nodded and took off running.

*          *          *          *          *

Tim had been meeting with some of the Sunday school teachers and hadn’t checked his phone. At around four forty-five, the teachers left and he saw Danny’s text: _Betsy’s bombed. Alex John Gil me all okay, some not. Pray on the way._

He grabbed a jacket and raced out the door.

*          *          *          *          *

Herc heard the explosion and, since he didn’t have a class, headed in that direction out of curiosity. Halfway there he got Danny’s message.

*          *          *          *          *

Marty Middicks called Mark from the hospital. “You should get over there and see if you can help,” he said. “It’s bad. Johnny’s got a concussion and a broken arm and I don’t even know how many stitches in his head. I’m waiting here with him until the tests all come back.”

“How about Deb and Betsy?” Mark asked.

“I don’t know,” Marty told him. “I didn’t see them.”

Mark knew what that meant. “I have Tuesdays off,” he said, almost randomly.

“There was a dead girl on the floor,” Marty added, his voice breaking.

“I’m leaving now.”

*          *          *          *          *

Rob Townsend was in his office. He always kept the door open, partly to make students feel welcome, but also because he wanted to be the first to hear anything out of the ordinary. Today there was a lot of loud chatter and voices that sounded upset. He walked to the door and stood leaning against the jamb.

“Everything okay?” he asked a group of freshmen who were all talking at once.

“You know that coffee shop, Betsy’s?” a girl asked. “There was some sort of explosion, and now they’re saying people are dead.”

“There’s nothing on the news, though,” another girl said.

“Cassie’s not answering her phone,” the first girl said, “and I’ve been texting her for an hour.”

“I’ll go see what I can find out,” Rob told them, hoping his voice sounded reassuring. “If there’s any news, I’ll put it on the website.”

The girls nodded and went off to their rooms. Rob locked his office and took the stairs at a fast jog.

*          *          *          *          *

“There’s apartments upstairs,” Danny said. “They’ve all been evacuated.”

“How’d you get that done?” Alex asked.

Danny shrugged. “I just told them. I mean, they heard the explosion.”

Alex turned back to Jacob. “How long do you think before the beam gives way?”

Jacob blew out a breath. “Can’t tell. I’d need all kinds of information we don’t have time to get. Let’s just say not very long. Don’t stop watching the beam. We’d need a construction jack and a support post to brace it, so what we’re going to do instead is brace this smaller load here.”

“What do you mean?” John asked.

“It’s like building a tunnel. There’s a girl in there who’s got too much weight on her chest, so we have to get it off, but we can’t start at the top and remove pieces of this rubble like we’re playing pick-up sticks. There’s no time. We’re going to prop up what we can as we dig in from here, kind of like they shore up coal mines with wooden supports.”

“Got it,” John said, nodding.

“I need you to get all the biggest, sturdy pieces of lumber you can find. Don’t pull them out of this pile because we don’t want anything here to move accidentally, but anywhere else.”

“The shelves!” Alex said suddenly. He turned to Jacob. “There are metal shelves in the back. We can take them apart and use them.”

“Perfect,” Jacob told him.

“There’s a tool box in the office,” John said, just as Herc walked in.

“What do you need?” he asked immediately.

“Come on,” John told him, starting over the pile of rubble on the other side of the room. “I’ll tell you on the way.”

Danny went with them. Gil was talking to Deb, telling her that it wouldn’t be long.

Alex pulled Jacob aside. “The center part of the counter, right where it looks like the bomb was, had a marble top, a piece about two feet wide, five feet long. I don’t see it, so I don’t know if it was shattered into dust or if it’s under this other stuff. If it’s still in one piece or a few pieces, that’s going to be a son of a bitch to try to move.”

Jacob nodded. “I hope that’s not what’s on the girl’s chest,” he said. “If it is, she doesn’t have the whole weight on her, or she’d have been dead by now, but even if something else is supporting part of it, the weight could shift as we’re working.”

“What can we do?” Alex asked him.

“Pray.” He began walking slowly around the room, kicking small pieces of debris out of his way, trying to see things from different angles. He stopped and turned to Gil. “Get her to say something. I need to figure out where she is.”

“Hey, Deb,” Gil said gently. “I need you to talk to me.”

“’Kay,” Deb responded. “Are you going to be able to get me out soon?”

“Absolutely, we’re working on it.”

Jacob crouched down next to Gil. “Hi, my name’s Jacob,” he said. “I’m a fireman, and I need to ask you some questions. Can you open your eyes okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, good. Tell me exactly what you see.”

“Um, boards, a lot of wires and metal things. I can’t turn my head very far.”

“Okay, don’t try. We don’t want you to try to move too much.”

“I can see Betsy’s shoulder.”

“You sure it’s her?”

“Yeah, her shirt.” There was a pause. “It’s hard to talk.”

“Hang on, you’re doing great. Just a couple more questions. Where is Betsy in relationship to you? You can see her shoulder, so is she next to you? On your left or your right?”

“Left. Kind of below me. I can move my left hand a little and put it on her ribs. That’s how I know she’s still breathing.”

“Good for you, that’s great.” Jacob looked away for a minute and rubbed his eyes. “Can you tell me how you’re positioned? On your back or side or what?”

“On my back, mostly, but not flat. My head’s further down and my legs are up.”

“How about Betsy?”

“I think she’s on her stomach, but I can’t tell. Maybe her side?”

“Okay, good. Now, can you see what’s on your chest that’s making it hard to breathe?”

“Not really. I can’t lift my head up to see. It’s not exactly on my chest, more like on my diaphragm. I think it’s something big.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out. Your friends and I are going to start moving some of this stuff now. If you feel that weight on you shift even the tiniest bit, you yell, okay?”

“I’ll try.”

“Sorry, you don’t have to yell. Just say something.”

“Okay.”

“It won’t be long.”

“Jacob?”

“Yes?”

“I’m really scared.”

Alex was looking at Gil. However casual their relationship might have been, there was a time when he’d held this girl in his arms, kissed her and made love to her. Now, his face was like stone. If Deb didn’t survive …

“We’re going to start here,” Jacob said, indicating a place on the pile of rubble that looked just like the rest of it to everybody else.

John and Danny had been bringing in pieces of the shelves, piling them up, and Alex hadn’t even noticed. He realized Johan and Nate were there too, and Tim was climbing through the space where the window had been. Jacob was explaining exactly how to start moving the debris, and Alex took a minute to hang on to Tim. “You praying, Rev?” he asked.

Tim smiled, tears in his eyes. “Fuck, yeah.”

Alex choked on something halfway between a sob and a laugh, and went back to listening to Jacob. He knew what he was doing, showed them how to get the bracing boards under the debris, how to assess what to lift first. “We protect the head first, the chest next. Other things can be repaired. We’re going to work toward Deb’s head, get whatever the weight is off her chest, and brace around her as we pull her out. Then we’ll do the same for Betsy. Remember that we don’t know if they’re they only ones in there. There could be others, maybe alive but unconscious like Betsy, so we don’t want anything shifting that we don’t shift ourselves.” He turned to Alex. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Alex nodded, puzzled, but let Jacob take him aside out of hearing of the others.

“You’re in charge here, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You guys are what they call the Movement?”

“Yeah.” No point in debating.

“I don’t want you digging. You stay back, check on the fire in the kitchen, whatever. The ceiling starts to come down, you get out.”

“What the hell are you …?”

Jacob cut him off. “I had ten years in the Army. You’re the commanding officer, I’m your senior noncom, looks like John and Gil are your lieutenants, the rest are enlisted. Am I right?”

Alex nodded, “Yeah, I guess, but …”

“Shut up, sir,” Jacob said. “Whatever happens, the Movement will need its leaders, you understand?”

“I don’t want …”

“Sir, all due respect, that’s what you signed up for. You don’t have time to call the General, but if you did, you know what he’d say.”

A memory as clear as day flashed into Alex’s mind, a memory of that afternoon in the basement room of the Capitol, when President Washington had said, “You’re here because we trust your judgment.” He and the others had willingly taken on the responsibility of leadership with all that entailed. He wondered for a minute if Jacob was using “the General” to refer to any commanding officer or if he had deduced that the former Vice-President was in charge of the Movement. It didn’t really matter. He was right.

He nodded. “All right. Understood. Just stop calling me sir.”

“Yes, sir,” Jacob said.

Eliza came in just as Johan and Danny were putting in the first two vertical bracing boards, with Jacob sliding a horizontal one above them. All Alex’s attention was on what they were doing, and he didn’t even see her until she stepped up next to him and took his hand. John was back in the kitchen area with Herc, using fire extinguishers that the neighbors had brought, but the back wall was well and truly in flames now. It wasn’t close to where they were, but if that wall weakened, it would further destabilize the upper levels. Gil was on the floor, talking to Deb from time to time, making sure she was still okay. Nate had gone out in the hope of finding a construction jack and a post to brace the beam, but that seemed like an almost impossible task. Joe Allicocke’s uncle was a contractor, though, so Nate was trying to contact him.

Alex put his arm around Eliza’s shoulder and held her for a minute. “You should wait outside, across the street,” he said. “We don’t know how long the ceiling will hold, and they can’t get the fire out with a few handheld extinguishers.”

“Where’s the fire department?” she asked.

Alex kissed her cheek. “Not here, sweetheart. Howe and Loring knew about this. No city first responders were coming.”

“Do you have any idea who did it?”

He tightened his grip on her shoulder. “Maybe. We’ll talk about it later. Now go.”

“Not until you and John do.”

Well, he’d known that. “Will you go talk to Tim, then? Danny got all the residents of the upstairs evacuated, but now they’ve got no place to go and Tim is trying to get their information, maybe help them out.”

She saw Tim over near the blown out window, talking on his phone. “All right,” she said. “I love you.”

God, it was good to hear that. “I love you too.”

They’d made a little more progress in the digging, bracing another few inches. John climbed over the debris on the other side and saw Eliza with Tim. He went to give her a quick kiss, then came back to talk to Alex. “We tamped it down a little, but it’s not out. We don’t have any more extinguishers, though.” He looked up. “The beam’s lower, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Nate said Joe’s uncle might have a jack.”

“Maybe, if he can find him. If he can also find a post. If he can get them here.”

There was a sudden crash from the center of the room, then Jacob swearing, then, worse, a cry of pain from Deb. Danny crawled out from the makeshift tunnel, covered with dust, bleeding from a gash in his shoulder. He held his hand up impatiently. “I’m fine, I’m fine.”

Eliza ignored his protests and pulled him closer to the window, but the light was fading, and they had no electricity.

“Gil, what about Deb?” Alex asked.

“Something hit her leg. I think she’s okay, but, for the love of God, Alex, we’ve got to get her out.”

“We will,” Alex promised with much more confidence than he felt.

“Where can we get water?” Eliza asked. “This cut needs to be cleaned.”

“Try the laundromat two doors down. They were helping us out earlier.”

Eliza left, dragging a reluctant Danny with her.

Jacob was still on the floor. “Can we get any lights? Shop lights, field lights, anything?”

“There’s a Home Depot not far,” Herc responded, “and Betsy’s van is right out back …”

“The keys are on the pegboard in the office,” John told him. He thought for a minute. “You don’t suppose Home Depot would have a construction jack, do you?”

“It’s worth a try,” Alex said. “How much do they cost?”

“Not a clue.” John pulled out his wallet, handed Herc a handful of hundred-dollar bills. “Get lights, get a jack, maybe a couple, get – hey, Jacob, what else do we need?”

“Support posts. Tell them your porch roof is sagging.”

“Okay.” Herc was still staring at the money in his hand.

Alex was making another quick decision when Angelica walked in – climbed in, rather, over the rubble by the window. Her eyes went right to Alex. “I didn’t … I was in class … I just …”

“It’s all right,” Alex told her. “Get down on the floor, talk to Deb. Gil, I need you to go with Herc in case anybody gives him shit for not having a contractor’s license or something. Pull your French aristocrat act on them.”

Gil understood. He exchanged a few words with Angelica to get her caught up, then he and Herc left.

Eliza came back with Danny, who had a bandage taped to his shoulder. “They had a first-aid kit, thank God,” she said, “but I think he needs stitches.”

Danny disagreed. “Not now. Maybe later, after we’ve got them out.”

“Sit down for a while,” Jacob directed. “John, you give us a hand here.”

Alex’s heart sank, but he didn’t let it show on his face. He didn’t want John crawling into the pile of debris. He didn’t want Eliza in the building. He couldn’t say it, though. Jacob had reminded him that what they were working for was more than a handful of lives. He hoped – maybe even prayed – that they’d all make it out tonight, but no matter what, whoever survived would continue the fight.

About half an hour later, Angelica approached him. “Deb keeps asking for water,” she said. “Is there any way?”

“I doubt it,” he responded. “I can’t see how …” He shoved his hair off his face. They’d progressed maybe two feet into the rubble, with at least another ten to go. They could barely see now. People were holding phones up, and somebody from the street had brought a small battery-operated lantern, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Nothing they were doing was enough.

“Alex …” Angelica put her hand on his arm.

He turned to look at her. There were tears in her eyes. Angelica almost never cried.

“Alex,” she started again. “I can’t say I understand, but I love Eliza, and I haven’t seen her this happy in a long time.”

Alex pulled her into his arms. “Thank you,” he whispered. “It means a lot.”

She nodded quickly and went back to her place on the floor. No matter what happened tonight, at least they would both know those words had been said.

A few minutes later, they heard Herc yelling from the back door. “We could use a hand back here!”

Alex, Tim, Danny, and Eliza made their way over the debris and through the hallway. Herc and Gil were unloading things from the back of the van.

“High-power battery-operated shop lights, four of them,” Herc announced. Eliza, Tim, and Danny each took one of the lights and headed back to the front. “Two construction jacks,” Herc continued, grinning, “and – I’ll need some help here – a twelve foot heavy-duty support post.”

“Jesus!” Alex said as Herc and Gil unloaded a huge wooden post about a foot in diameter. He stood and stared at it, his eyes widening. “Is that a fucking utility pole?”

Gil shrugged. “It was until very recently.” He crawled back into the van and brought out the last item. “We also had to buy a chain saw.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We still don't know if everyone will make it out alive, but at least it looks like they'll be able to keep the ceiling up. Who do you think planted the bomb? How will Alex figure it out?  
> Jacob Turck was the first chief of the first fire department formed in New York City. I've bent the timeline because that was quite a bit earlier than Hamilton's arrival, but I still wanted to give him a nod, and somebody had to know how to dig people out of a bombed building.  
> Thanks to everyone for reading and leaving kudos or comments. Please don't hesitate to ask questions. I love to hear from you.


	63. Casualties and Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex gets some information that might help identify the bomber. The rescue operation doesn't go as well as they hoped.

Jacob looked stunned. “They stole a fucking telephone pole?”

Alex waved his hand vaguely. “You don’t know Gil.”

Gil was back on the floor talking to Deb, and Jacob looked at him with new respect. “Okay,” he said, “let’s get this beam braced.”

It wasn’t as simple as Alex thought it would be. Jacob assessed the beam as best he could to find what looked like the weakest spot. They cleared a few square feet of the floor under it, Angelica cutting her hand on a sharp piece of metal while doing it. The cut wasn’t deep, but it wouldn’t stop bleeding until Eliza finally improvised a compress out of some tissues and her hair tie. In the meantime, John, Johan, and Herc continued to brace the debris and inch closer to Deb and Betsy. Danny, disgusted that Jacob had told him he couldn’t work anymore with the deep gash on his shoulder, wandered outside and directed his attention to the crowd on the sidewalk.

When the floor was clear, Jacob got the two largest intact boards he could to make a base for the jack. Herc and Gil hauled the former utility pole into place, and Jacob cranked the jack as they watched. As the beam began to rise, centimeter by centimeter, there was a cheer. When it was as close to level as he could get it, Jacob locked the jack and said, “Okay, let’s get back to work.”

With the shop lights trained on the pile of debris, they were able to make better progress. John, farthest in, suddenly yelled, “I can see her! Hey, Deb, we’re almost there.”

“Let me see,” Jacob ordered, and John crawled out to make room for him. When Jacob came out from under the rubble, he said, “Hold off for a minute, guys, I need to check a couple of things.”

Alex didn’t like the sound of that, and he was even more uneasy when Jacob took him aside. “That marble slab you told me about – it looks like a piece of that is what’s putting the weight on her diaphragm.”

“How big a piece?”

“Looks like most of it, maybe three feet long? If the bomb was directly under the middle, it might have just broken in half, but it also kept the damage from being worse.”

“What do you mean?”

“The marble kind of kept a lid on the explosion, if that makes sense. The force blew out sideways, but if there had been a wooden countertop, it would have gone straight up, probably taken out the ceiling. That beam we just braced wouldn’t have been damaged, it would have come right down. The building most likely would have collapsed.”

“Oh, shit.” Alex thought about the implications of that.

“Right now, though, we have to figure out how to get that chunk of stone off your friend. Something else is supporting a lot of the weight, because if it was all on her, she wouldn’t have survived.”

“How much does a piece of marble like that weigh?”

“At a guess, a couple hundred pounds.”

Alex bit his lip, thinking. “So we need to be sure that’s supported before we try to get Deb out, or it could come down on her and kill her.”

“Yeah.” Jacob looked away for a minute. “Another thing – Gil asked her twenty minutes ago if she could still feel Betsy breathing. She said she couldn’t tell because her hand had gone to sleep. Just so you know.”

Alex took a breath. “How do we support the piece of marble?”

“Can we get some rope? If I can get rope around it, a couple of your guys can hold it back, make sure it doesn’t come down till we’ve got the debris around her moved and can pull her out.”

“We’ll get some rope, then,” Alex told him. “Listen, Jacob, I don’t know how to thank you.”

“It’s okay. I’ve been thinking of hunting up you guys anyway. It’s about time I started doing something about King’s illegal government.”

“Well, then, welcome aboard. You’d better tell everybody what we’re going to do next.”

When Jacob announced that they needed rope, Danny put the word out to the bystanders, many of whom had been watching for hours.  There were lots of offers of help, as if they all understood that the city emergency forces weren’t going to show up for anybody but the Haves anymore. Some of the people had gone home and brought back sandwiches, cookies, and bottled water, which they gave to Danny to distribute. By now Danny had a dozen or so new friends out on the sidewalk, and he was making sure to include them in all the conversations, with reports on how the work was going. After he put out the request for rope, he came in to talk to Alex.

“There are some people out there who think someone they know might have been in here when the bomb went off,” he said.

“Who are they asking for?”

“Two girls say they can’t get in touch with their friend Cassie; a guy is looking for his cousin Jared.”

Alex ran his hand over his face. “Cassie was killed instantly.” He waved in the direction of Cassie’s body, dust-covered and ignored off to the side. “Don’t let them see her. It’s bad.”

Danny nodded, his face grim.

“As for Jared, or anybody else, we don’t know. We’re lucky that Deb was conscious and able to help us out.”

“How about Betsy?”

Alex shook his head. “It doesn’t look good.”

“Rev’s going to go out with me to talk to people,” Danny said. “We’ll tell Cassie’s friends. What are we … usually, wouldn’t an ambulance take away bodies of people who had died?”

“Or a coroner’s van, or maybe even an undertaker. I don’t know what to tell Cassie’s friends except there don’t seem to be any city services anymore unless you’ve made large donations to Howe or Loring.”

“I’ll see what we can figure out.” He walked off to get Tim as an older woman came up and handed Alex a sandwich and a bottle of water.

Alex sat down on the floor near where the door had been, shoving the sandwich in his mouth, and after a few minutes, Rob Townsend joined him. He gulped some water to wash down the sandwich.

“How long have you been here?”

“A while. I’ve just been hanging out, listening. I thought you’d want to know.”

Alex nodded casually, in case someone was watching. “You hear anything?”

“I’m not sure. I heard a lot of things, but I don’t know what’s important. We don’t have time to talk about it now.”

“Right.”

“I’ve taken a few pictures, too, just in case, as they say, the criminal returned to the scene of the crime. I didn’t see anyone that looked likely, but you never know.”

“We’ll get together tomorrow or the next day,” Alex told him, “depending on how the rest of this goes.”

“Okay. You know where to find me.” Rob got up and drifted off into the crowd, but Alex knew he’d stay around until they were done.

Danny came in to tell Alex that they’d broken the news to Cassie’s friends. Tim was staying with them while they called her family and arranged for someone to pick up her body. Danny had told Jared’s cousin that he’d keep him updated, and he went to where Jacob was still directing the rescue to see if he could help.

Nate Pendleton had returned by then, bringing Joe Allicocke with him, but Joe’s uncle was on a job upstate, and there was no way he was going to be able to bring equipment. Fortunately, a local guy named Seth showed up with some sturdy-looking rope, and Jacob got John, Johan, and Herc on the floor to explain what they were going to do. They’d have to widen the “tunnel” to get past Deb and to loop the rope around the slab of marble before they tried to move her. John and Johan would be in the tunnel, while Herc and Jacob worked with the rope on the outside.

They had tunneled far enough now for John to stretch and pour some water into Deb’s mouth. Half of it ran off because she couldn’t move her head, but she was pathetically grateful anyway, which made John feel like crying.

They slowly cleared more space, until John could see the marble slab clearly. A large piece of lumber and part of a heating duct had partly supported it so that the full weight hadn’t fallen on Deb. John pushed himself forward head-first, on his back, to get a better look, and he said, “You’re going to have to clear some of the shit away from the other side or there won’t be any way to pull the slab back.”

Herc and Jacob started moving debris from their side. They finally got to the point where they could see the side of the slab facing away from John.

“We should lower the end of the rope in from here,” Herc said. “Let gravity help.”

Jacob nodded, and they pushed the rope down toward John.

“Like threading a fucking needle,” Jacob muttered.

“I see it,” John called, and a few minutes later, “I’ve got it.”

He had to work the rope across the bottom of the slab and then push the end back up so they could grab it, being careful not to disturb the pieces that were holding it off of Deb. Once he managed to get it all the way across, though, there seemed to be no way to push it back up.

“We need a hook of some kind,” Jacob said. “Anybody got any ideas?”

Alex frowned. “There’s got to be a coat hanger around here somewhere.”

Johan scrambled back to the office and found a couple of wire hangers on a hook behind the door. He had one bent almost straight by the time he got back to the front. Jacob pushed it through slowly and carefully, and John tied the rope end to it. They pulled it back up, then went through the whole process again, to get a double loop of rope around the slab.

Jacob finally flashed a smile. “We’re getting close,” he announced. He looked at Nate and Joe. “You guys, sorry, don’t know your names, can you help Herc with the rope? There’s no telling how long we’ll have to hold that slab up, but with three of you, it won’t be too bad.” He got Joe and Nate in place, explained what to do, then came back to their original entry point.

“All right, John, we’re going to pull Deb out by her shoulders. You need to be sure there’s nothing that’s going to get in her way. Herc and the other guys are going to manage the rope. Gil, as soon as the way is clear, I want you to get into the tunnel and get hold of her shoulders. You’ll have to crawl backwards and pull her.” Gil shot him a grateful glance and nodded. “Johan,” Jacob continued, “John’s going to be shoving pieces of debris in your direction. Get it out of the way, and then if Gil needs help, you can help him. Angelica, have water and a blanket or coat for her. She’ll need them. Okay, John, let us know when you need the slab lifted.”

“Got it,” John said. “Oh, one more thing before we get this going. Yo, Danny, talk to the angel.”

Not everybody knew what he meant, but Danny responded, “I have been all day. You’ve got this.”

John very carefully pulled away pieces of wood, metal, and drywall that were around Deb’s head, and Johan passed him in boards to brace the area. When Deb could finally move her right hand, she started crying, and John said softly, “We got you, baby girl. We’ll get you out of here.”

Alex and Eliza, standing where they couldn’t see him, clutched each other’s hands as they waited. It seemed to take forever. Finally, they heard John tell Gil to get hold of Deb’s shoulders, and they heard movement, then Johan saying, “Hold up, hold up! I need another board.”

Angelica handed him one, and then again, it seemed like they were making progress. Then finally John said, “Okay, start lifting the slab, but keep it slow.”

Herc and Nate pulled on the rope and there was the noise of debris shifting. “Tell me what you’re doing, John,” Jacob directed.

“The slab’s off her, and I’ve got room to pull out the other stuff. You’re going to have to hoist it a little bit more so I can get this piece of heater or whatever it is.”

They lifted the slab a few more inches, and John said, “Okay, good, I got it. Gil, start pulling her out.”

Gil had his hands under her shoulders, and he was crawling backward using his elbows and his knees, moving slowly and carefully. It felt like it was taking forever, and then suddenly Deb let out a cry of pain, and Gil stopped moving.

“My foot’s caught on something,” Deb told them. “I can’t get it loose.”

“Okay, don’t try to kick it off,” Jacob cautioned. “John, can you see it?”

“Hang on,” John said. He pushed himself further into the broken boards and dust. There was no real tunnel this far in, and they hadn’t shored it up. “I need a couple of boards.”

Johan handed the boards to Gil, who passed them over Deb to John. John was still lying on his back with no room to turn over, but he did the best he could to get the boards into position. Once they were supporting the loose rubble, he was able to move the piece of rebar that had blocked Deb’s foot, and he told Gil to go ahead. When they saw Gil’s feet emerge from the tunnel, the cheering started, but Jacob told them to stop. “We’re nowhere near done,” he reminded them.

Alex and Angelica got down on the floor to help, and it wasn’t too much longer before they had Deb out. She was sobbing and covered in dust with blood on her face and arms, but the cuts and scrapes were superficial, and miraculously, she didn’t seem to have any broken bones. Angelica wrapped her in a couple of donated blankets, gave her more water, and left her with Gil.

Jacob turned to Herc and Nate, who were still holding up the marble countertop piece with the rope. “As soon as John’s out, you guys can lower that back down,” he said. He raised his voice. “Hey, John, you can start heading out now.”

“I have to check on Betsy,” John told him.

They all knew what he’d find. So did he, but he wasn’t leaving until he’d checked anyway. Betsy had been to Deb’s left, and a little further in, so John inched himself toward her. He could make out her yellow tee shirt, dusty but still visible, under boards and broken drywall. By stretching his hand over his head, he could touch her side, just above her waist. She was cold and still, as he had known she would be. He lay there, blinking dust and tears out of his eyes and then started to angle himself to get out.

Everything happened at once. The rope broke with no warning, and the piece of marble came crashing down, snapping John's right leg just above the ankle. John screamed, and Alex dove into the tunnel. Jacob shouted for help, and he, Herc, Nate, and Joe were able to get enough purchase on the marble to pull it up before it crushed John’s leg completely.

“Alex,” Jacob yelled, “You’re going to have to get him by the shoulders like Gil did Deb.” He’d seen crush injuries before. He knew John could lose a foot or worse if he didn’t get medical care immediately.

Alex grabbed for John, couldn’t quite reach, pushed himself farther forward. He could hear the debris over him shifting from all the movement, but it was as if he was listening to something far away. He ignored it. He got hold of John and pulled, and John screamed again.

 _“Lo siento, mi amor,”_ he said through tears, _“sé que duele, lo siento.”_ He kept pulling and John kept yelling and cursing, and both of them were crying, until finally he was far enough back that Gil could reach in and help. Gil and Danny got John out the rest of the way, and Alex saw how bad it was, John’s leg bent at a sickening angle a few inches above his ankle.

 Gil stood up and turned to Alex. “Hospital,” he said. “He’ll need surgery. Does he have his ID?”

Danny was already going through John’s pockets, and he pulled out his wallet and held it up. “It’s here,” he said. “It’s his Have ID.”

“Thank God,” Gil breathed. “I can take him to Saint Luke’s. My car’s out back. Eliza, you come with us.” He looked back at John. “Johan, go back to the office and bring me the roll of duct tape from the shelf. Danny, get me a narrow piece of board about a foot long. I’ve got to stabilize his leg before we move him.” He threw Eliza his keys. “Bring the car around to the front here.”

Danny brought him what looked like a piece of door frame. “Will this work?”

“Yeah, that’s good.” He knelt down next to John and Johan handed him the duct tape. “John, I need to get this piece of wood under your leg,” he said gently.

“Don’t you fucking touch it,” John told him.

“I’m sorry,” Gil said, his voice calm and even, “but I have to.” He looked up, and only his eyes betrayed what he was feeling. “Alex, Danny, you’re going to have to hold him down. He’ll try to fight me.”

“Fucking right I will,” John retorted. “Get your hands off me! _Fuck!_ It hurts.”

“I know.” Gil nodded, and Alex and Danny got down on the floor. Gil looked around again and signaled for Herc. “Alex and Danny, one of you on each side, hold his arms down, lean on his chest so he doesn’t try to sit up. Herc, hold his left leg, keep him from kicking me. He can’t help it,” he added, his voice strained. “He’s irrational from the pain.”

They did as they were told for an agonizing few minutes while John screamed curses at them and Gil efficiently taped the makeshift splint in place. Then the four of them lifted John into the back seat of Gil’s Audi. By the time he was in the car with his head on Eliza’s lap, he seemed to have exhausted himself, and was sobbing as she stroked his hair. Alex stood staring as the car pulled away, wishing he could go too, knowing he couldn’t. He took a breath and turned to Jacob. “What’s next?”

“We need to remove the body of your other friend. I understand there may be someone else under there, but we haven’t heard anything so if this other person was here, he’s almost certainly dead.”

Alex nodded. “Betsy and Jared,” he said. “I want to use their names.”

“Understood. Deb needs to have somebody check her out, take a look at the cuts she has, make sure nothing needs stitches.”

“I doubt if we could get her into an emergency room. Her situation’s not dire, so they’d just turn her away since she’s not a Have.” He looked around for Danny, but he was outside again, letting everybody know what had happened. He sent Johan out to get him.

“What do you need?” Danny asked, and Alex’s heart contracted. Danny looked as exhausted as he’d ever seen him, his face streaked with dust and sweat, his clothes torn in a dozen places from crawling in the rubble, and yet his first question was about what somebody else needed.

“C’mere,” Alex said, and pulled him in for a hug. Danny leaned in gratefully for a minute, then pulled back.

The ghost of his usual bright smile flitted across his face. “Ain’t got time for that.”

“Do you think you can find somebody out front who knows first aid, maybe make sure Deb is okay before we send her home?”

“Sure, I’ll get Eleanor.”

“Eleanor?”

“She was an Army medic.”

Of course Danny knew the name and history of every person out on the sidewalk. He went to get Eleanor, and Jacob looked from him to Alex. “How old is that kid?”

“Sixteen, but as we usually say, sixteen going on thirty. He takes on as much responsibility as any of us. You may not be able to tell, but he’s worried sick about John.”

“How about you?”

“Same, yeah, just trying not to think about it.”

“He’ll be okay if he gets good care,” Jacob told him. “A broken leg’s no joke, but it didn’t look like a crush injury, which might have meant amputation. I think the slab hit him edge-on, so thank God for small mercies.”

Alex felt sick even thinking about it. He knew John would be getting the best possible care. Gil had interned at Saint Luke’s, and he would make sure that everything needed would be done. Alex suspected that either Gil or Eliza would just happen to mention that John was the son of Henry Laurens, an important Have businessman and campaign donor. John would hate that, but his friends would use whatever information they had to insure that he got the attention he needed.

Danny brought in a thirtyish woman in a faded blue jacket and took her directly to Deb. Angelica was with her and Eleanor was talking to both of them. Suddenly it seemed like it would just be too much trouble to walk across the room and meet her. He sat down on the floor and put his head between his knees.

“Dizzy?” Jacob asked, joining him.

“Maybe. My knees just felt shaky.”

“You probably need to eat.”

“I had a sandwich.”

“Okay.” Jacob sat staring at the back wall which still smoldered a little. “We ought to put that out completely before we go.”

“Go?”

“Alex, Angelica’s going to take Deb home in a few minutes, I’m sure. John’s out of commission, Gil and Eliza will stay with him most of the night. You’re about to keel over, and Danny looks dead on his feet. For safety reasons alone, we should quit now.”

Alex nodded. He was right. There were still a few things that had to be done before they could go, though. He called Herc over. “We need to clear out the conference room.”

Herc knew he was talking about guns. “To where?”

“The van for now, until we have a chance to think about it. We’ll need a place to park the van. I don’t think we should leave it here.”

“I agree.” Herc thought for a minute. “Remember the guy I know who has a gas station by my mom’s apartment, the one who let the kids hold a car wash there? He doesn’t have a lot of business these days, so I bet he’s got room to park the van in his garage.”

“That would be perfect.” The white van with the bright yellow oval and rainbow letters was a little hard to conceal.

Herc went to call his friend, and Alex asked Nate and Joe to see if anybody outside knew where they could get more fire extinguishers so that they could be sure the back wall wasn’t going to get worse. Then he went alone into Betsy’s office and started loading one of Betsy’s bright yellow tote bags with her laptop and all the papers he could find in her desk. He didn’t take the time to read anything, couldn’t even have said what he thought he might find, but he didn’t want to leave anything there overnight. He hauled the bag back into the front and saw Nate and Joe operating fire extinguishers in the kitchen. Angelica and Deb were gone. He looked for Danny and saw him with Tim. The crowd outside had thinned quite a bit. “Danny, where’d Angelica go?”

“Eleanor gave her and Deb a ride back to Deb’s apartment. Angelica’s going to stay with her for now.”

“Anything else I need to know?”

“Marty Middicks texted Johan that Johnny will be out of the hospital in the morning. He’s got a bad concussion and a broken arm, but he’ll be okay. Oh, and a lot of stitches in his head, but I forget how many.”

“So Marty stayed at the hospital with him?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Alex nodded. “Anybody heard from Mark?”

“No, I thought that was weird.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know. Ordinarily, Betsy, Johnny, or Deb would be the ones to contact him about anything to do with work, but today …”

“Yeah, I guess. You going to call him?”

Alex shook his head. “Not now. You and Tim should head home.”

For once Danny didn’t argue. “You’ll call me as soon as you hear anything about John, right? Even if it’s three in the morning?”

“Danny, it’s past that now.”

Danny looked at his phone and then back at Alex. “Shit, it’s nearly five.”

“Yeah, go get some sleep. I promise I’ll call.”

Tim came in and gave Alex a hug, thanked Jacob for everything he’d done, gave him his card. Nate and Joe reported that there were no more hot spots in the back wall and it might hold a little while longer. At least the whole place wouldn’t go up in flames now. Herc said that his friend Carter, who owned the gas station, would be happy to garage the van for now. Herc and Johan were almost finished loading the guns into it, and then Herc would drive it to Carter’s.

Alex needed to ask Jacob a question. “Before we go, I want to talk to you about what you said earlier, about the marble slab acting like a lid on the explosion.”

“Okay, what do you want to know?”

“I’m trying to figure out if the person who planted the bomb knew that.”

“I doubt it very much,” Jacob told him. “You don’t bring that powerful a bomb in and then deliberately shield the blast. Your bomber probably doesn’t know a lot about physics. The bomb construction is professional level, but the placement was definitely done by an amateur.”

“That’s helpful.”

“You think you know who did it?”

“Maybe. More like, I think I know who didn’t do it.”

Jacob nodded. “What do you do with something like this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, suppose you figure out who did it – then what? It’s not like you can turn him in to the police.”

Alex thought about Officer Troy Crandall, shot to death in his front yard for having molested Patty, two random Greaters taken out by a sniper right after Eliza had been assaulted on the train, others who had been killed publicly or privately. “We deal with it,” he said. “You don’t need to know.”

Jacob nodded. “I see. Is everything need to know?”

“Absolutely. With a group like ours, it’s the only way it can work.”

“Do you think I’d fit in somewhere?”

“I’m sure you would. I’m going to make some calls and then I’ll get back to you. Can you give me a number?”

“I don’t have a phone license, but if you call my sister Barbara, she can always get in touch with me.” He gave Alex the number.

“We’ll be back here tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah. We owe it to the ones who are still here.” He nodded toward where Betsy’s body lay under the rubble.

Alex’s eyes suddenly filled. “She gave me extra sugar today,” he said. “The last thing I said to her was ‘I love you.’”

Jacob gripped his shoulder. “Be grateful for that.”

Alex nodded and checked his phone again. Still nothing from Gil. Why?

Johan turned off the shop lights and carried them to the conference room, which was the only place that might be secure. The walls had been jarred enough that the door didn’t quite close, but it was still pretty well hidden, and the lights would probably be safe there.

“What time tomorrow?” Jacob asked. “I mean today.”

“Ten? Eleven?”

“I’ll be here.”

Herc pulled the van around in front and told Alex to get in so he could take him home. Alex took one more long look around the room where he and his friends had had so many conversations, where they had planned Missions and deepened their friendships. This was where Eliza had thrown him a surprise birthday party, this was where Patty had met Nat, this was where he had first held John’s hand. He thought of Patty with her cheerful smile for all the customers, of Ben cracking his “Hale from Yale” jokes, of Betsy herself, who had started this modest coffee shop as a young widow. Now there was nothing, just shattered walls and broken glass and dust. How much more loss would there be?

Herc pulled the van up in the front, and Alex got in, dragging the yellow tote bag. “You okay driving?” he asked. They were all exhausted.

“Yeah, it’s not far. Carter’s going to meet me there and we’ll get the van secured, and then I’ll walk home. It’s only a block. I’ll come back in a few hours.”

Alex nodded, too tired to talk. His phone chimed, and he read Gil’s text: _John is out of surgery, still asleep, all went well. I’m going home to get some sleep, but will drop Eliza at your place first. She needs you._

Alex read the first sentence aloud for Herc, and then stared out the window, watching the pale gray dawn lighten the sky as tears ran down his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are looking pretty bleak. How much more loss can our squad take? How are they going to cope?  
> Who do you think planted the bomb? Is it the same person who's been channeling information to the Greaters? I'd love to hear your thoughts on that.  
> Thanks for reading this story, and thanks as always for all kudos and comments.


	64. What Happens Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is a difficult patient. Alex needs to deal with the physical, psychological, and strategic aftermath of the bombing. Mark Willet turns up.

Alex leaned on the sink, staring into the bathroom mirror. His hair was pale with dust, and his face was streaked with the same gray dust, tears, sweat and blood. He didn’t even know whose blood it was.

He turned the shower on, full blast, hot, not sure he would be able to stand up long enough to rinse all the dirt off. He couldn’t. Five minutes in, he sat down, letting the water cascade over him. That’s where Eliza found him. She threw her clothes on the floor and crawled in with him, kneeling behind him with her arms around his chest, her head resting on his back. Neither of them said anything for a long time. Alex held onto her hands and cried. Eventually he managed to stand up, pulling her with him, and they toweled most of the water out of their hair and dragged themselves into bed. Alex set his phone alarm for ten and then wrapped himself around Eliza, clinging to her, his face in her damp hair. She pressed herself against him, holding his hand against her face, and they fell into sleep like that, too exhausted to move.

The alarm went off less than four hours later, and it took Alex a minute to orient himself. He was in bed with Eliza, but something was wrong, and then it came back all at once. John was in the hospital. Betsy was dead. He sat up, rubbing his eyes.

“I’ll make coffee,” Eliza said.

He found clothes and pulled them on, realizing as he did that there were cuts and scratches all over his hands. At some point yesterday, he’d stopped noticing pain.

Eliza had made toast as well as coffee, and they sat across the table from each other in a way that would have been adorable a week ago, or even a day ago.

“How was John when you left the hospital?” Alex finally asked.

“Asleep. Gil talked to the doctors. He can tell you. He explained it to me, but it was such a horror story that I made him stop.” She looked up from her coffee and saw his face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It was the medical details, nails and screws and plates. It sounded like he was talking about construction supplies.”

“I’ll talk to him.” He reached across the table for her hand. “Are you okay?”

“Mostly. I can’t believe Betsy’s gone. I can’t believe somebody was trying to kill all of you.”

Alex let out a breath. “Yeah, it’s kind of hard to get my head around that idea.”

She held tight to his hand. “Do you know who?”

He didn’t answer. “Maybe. I mean, there are some things that narrow it down, but it doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Are you going to tell anybody what you think?”

“Not until I talk to the General.”

She nodded. “I guess that would be best.” She took a bite of toast and then looked at him, her eyes shadowed. “Do you think they’ll try again?”

*          *          *          *          *

John was awake and mad and hated that everybody was being super-nice to him because it had to be a hundred percent fake. He had no idea where his phone was, and he didn’t even know what they’d done to his leg, which was now in some kind of complicated brace. He got up by himself to use the bathroom, half hopping, half leaning on the wall, and was getting back into bed when a nurse came in.

“Did you get up?” she asked in horror.

“Yeah,” John replied truculently, swinging himself back into bed.

“You’re not supposed to get up yet,” she told him.

“Oh, well.” John turned his head away to look out the window at what seemed to be a gray, gloomy day.

The nurse left, and John flipped off her retreating back.

She returned a few minutes later with a sandy-haired woman in a white lab coat with a stethoscope around her neck. Embroidered on her pocket was _Samantha Bard, M. D., Orthopedics._

“Good morning, John,” she said, smiling. “I’m Dr. Bard. I worked on your broken leg last night.”

John was aware that even minimal good manners required a _thank you_ , but he didn’t answer.

“Melissa tells me you got up on your own a little while ago.” She paused long enough for John to respond, but he remained silent, not making eye contact. “We’d appreciate it if you push the call button if you need to get up to use the bathroom. You’re not going to be able to put your full weight on your right leg for a while, and I’d hate to see you re-injure it by falling.”

She probably had a point there. “Okay,” John assented.

Encouraged, Dr. Bard tried again. “How are you feeling? Are you in pain?”

John thought about that for a while. Either it was a monumentally stupid question – _duh, a couple of hundred pounds of stone fell on my leg_ – or she was being fake-nice like everybody else. Whatever, there was no point in answering.

“You know, we’re going to be able to help you more if you talk to us,” she said.

“Can I go home now?” he asked, finally turning to look directly at her.

She was clearly nonplussed by the question. “I would like for you to stay a little while longer to be sure that everything is going well. The physical therapist needs to see you before you can go, but if you really want to leave, we can probably arrange that later today.”

“Yeah, okay,” John agreed again. “Where’s my phone?”

“We gave your things to your friend who brought you in last night. He said he’d be back in the morning.”

The clock on the wall said eight o’clock. Gil should be there soon. John nodded and turned away again.

“Do you need anything for pain?” Dr. Bard asked.

“No.”

There was a long silence, and then Dr. Bard and the nurse finally left. John continued to stare out the window. By the time Gil showed up an hour later, he was ready to check himself out and walk home in his hospital gown, brace or no brace.

“Where the hell have you been?” he snapped.

Gil raised an eyebrow. “Home. Sleeping.”

“ _Sleeping?_ I’ve been in this fucking place with nobody to tell me what the hell is going on, and you’ve been _sleeping?_ ”

“I left here four hours ago,” Gil said calmly. “You were asleep at the time.”

John glanced at the clock suspiciously, and then back at Gil. “Four hours?”

“You were under anesthesia for much of the night. I wasn’t.”

 It took a couple of minutes for John to become aware of how tired Gil was, how pale and drawn his face looked. He pushed the button on his bed that brought him to a sitting position and held out his hand. “Shit, Gil, I’m sorry.”

Gil grasped his hand and gave him a faint smile, then gestured at his leg. “How bad is it?”

John shrugged. “Not the worst pain I’ve ever felt, but it’s pretty bad.”

“Did they give you anything for it?” Gil asked, wondering what the worst pain might have been.

“Nah, I didn’t want it.”

“What did they tell you about it?”

“Nothing.” Gil raised his eyebrow again, and John shoved his hair off his face and looked at the ceiling. “I might not have felt like having a conversation.”

“Did you see Dr. Bard?”

“Yeah.”

“You should be nice to her, John, she spent half the night putting your leg back together.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh. She was here a little while ago.”

Gil nodded. “Probably never went home.”

“Well, now I feel like shit.”

“Fair enough.”

John laughed reluctantly. “Damn you, Gil, how many strings did you have to pull to get me in here?”

“Not many, really, because you had your own ID with you – you know, John Laurens, member in good standing of the Have party.”

John sat up straight and his face went pale. “Oh, shit, I forgot. They wouldn’t – they wouldn’t call my father or anything, would they?”

“No, no, don’t worry. You’re over eighteen, they can’t contact anybody without your permission.”

The color came back into John’s face and he took a deep breath.

“Do you by any chance remember signing papers last night?” Gil asked.

“No, did I?”

“Yeah, but Eliza just shoved them in front of you and told you to sign them, and you did. You gave her, Alex, and me access to your medical information.”

“Okay, that was pretty smart.”

“Don’t pat yourself on the back. Eliza filled everything out; you just signed your name.”

“Well, she’s definitely smart.” John looked like he was beginning to relax a little. “When can I go home?”

“Didn’t Dr. Bard tell you?”

“Not exactly, but I was really being a pain in the ass. She said something about a physical therapist.”

Gil nodded. “You’ll have to see a physical therapist. Dr. Bard put a titanium rod through your tibia to hold it in place. Your fibula was broken too, but not displaced. What’s going to be troublesome for a few weeks is the damage to the muscles and ligaments. The brace will help with that, keep your ankle stabilized, but it’s going to hurt, and you’re going to need to be diligent about the physical therapy.”

“All right. Doesn’t sound like much fun, but I’ll do what I have to do. Did you say _weeks?_ How long does the titanium thing stay in?”

“It’s permanent.”

“No shit? I’m going to set off airport scanners for the rest of my life?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“So how long before I can walk around like normal without the brace?”

“If you’re lucky, you might be able to manage to do without the brace in four to six weeks, but your leg won’t be back to normal for around three months. That means no climbing on roofs or anything like that.”

“Fuck,” John muttered, knowing perfectly well what Gil was saying. He stared out the window for a minute again, then turned back. “Look at me being an asshole, feeling sorry for myself when I’m lucky to be alive. How’s Deb?”

“She’s okay, just minor injuries, a lot of bruising. She’s in pain, but she’ll be fine in a week or two. Angelica’s staying with her for now.”

“And Johnny?”

“He’s at Northside Hospital, since he’s not a Have, but he’s supposed to go home today. The broken arm isn’t that big a deal, but he’s got a pretty bad concussion. He shouldn’t be alone for a few days, so he’s probably going to stay at Deb’s. Not an ideal situation with both of them hurt, but we’ll take turns checking in on them. I have to say, Marty Middicks did the right thing, stayed with Johnny until late last night, then promised he’d be back this morning. I haven’t had a chance to check yet, but it seemed like he was trying to help.”

“And Mark?”

Gil shrugged. “I haven’t seen him. I don’t even know if he knows what happened.”

“Anybody else … besides Betsy, I mean?”

“I haven’t been over there yet. I’ll be going as soon as Alex and Eliza get here.”

John’s face lit up. “They’re both coming?”

Gil smiled. “Of course they are, idiot. Eliza will stay here and smooth things over with Dr. Bard for you.”

John stared out the window some more. “I wish … I wish I didn’t act like such a jerk when I’m … you know ...”

“Scared?”

“Yeah.” He turned back to look at Gil. “I don’t know how not to do it.”

“It’s okay. Nobody takes it personally.”

“Well, you or Alex might not, but the doctor – I should probably apologize to her.”

“That might be a good idea.”

“Gil, thanks for everything you did – for everything you do, always.”

Gil shook his head, dismissing it. “You’d do it for me.”

John snorted. “Yeah, but you really wouldn’t want me providing medical care for you.”

They were laughing when Alex and Eliza walked in. They went directly to John, one on each side of the bed, leaning over to hug and kiss him. Gil looked on, approving, as always, of love, however unconventional it might be.

“I have a titanium thing in my leg,” John told them with something like pride.

Alex shuddered and turned to Gil for an explanation. He reviewed John’s surgery and prognosis with them. “It’s going to be important for John to follow the physical therapy plan,” he explained. “That means if the therapist says to stay off the leg, John has to stay off the leg, no matter how impatient he gets.”

“We can handle him,” Alex said firmly. “He can’t argue with both of us.”

“Well, he can,” Eliza amended, “but he can’t win.”

John rolled his eyes. “Can anybody get me some food?”

“Didn’t they bring you breakfast?” Gil asked.

“Well, they did, but … I wasn’t in the mood to eat it.”

“How about if I go try to find Dr. Bard, and you talk to her?”

John thought about it. “Yeah, that would be okay. I’ll be nice, I promise.”

Gil left to get the doctor, and Alex said, “I can only stay for a few minutes, babe. Eliza will stay with you, and the Kia's here so she can get home. I'll ride to Betsy's with Gil. We still have a lot to do.” It felt strange saying that, with Betsy no longer there, but what else could he call it? “I took all her papers out of the office last night. I have no idea if there’s anything important, but right now, I don’t trust anybody except the inner circle.”

“You’re right. Somebody tried to kill us all. Until we know who it is, trust nobody.”

“It could have been much worse.” Alex explained what Jacob had told him about the marble countertop diminishing the effect of the blast.

“Oh, shit. So if the bomb had gone off full force as planned, it would have blown out the ceiling and all three floors would have fallen in on us?”

“Probably. I guess it’s also possible that whoever placed the bomb shielded it deliberately, but that person would have to be knowledgeable enough to do that – and really, why make a powerful bomb and then make it less effective?”

“The bomb was placed under the counter, then?”

“According to Jacob, it had to have been because of the way the blast went out rather than up.”

“Who had access?”

“Betsy, Deb, Johnny, and Mark, of course, but you know what it’s like at Betsy’s, people coming and going, and sometimes there’s nobody at the counter if Betsy’s in the office and whoever’s working is in the kitchen. All it would take would be two minutes and a little luck.”

“Was the bomb in a backpack?”

“That’s my guess. I haven’t had a chance to talk to Deb or Johnny yet, and nobody’s seen Mark.”

John frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Marty Middicks says he called him right after it happened, and Mark said he was leaving then, but that’s the last time anybody talked to him. His phone goes to voicemail.”

“Alex … I don’t like that.”

“Me neither, but there’s no information, and – Mark? He’s been with us almost from the beginning. I can’t see it.”

Eliza spoke up. “Well, then, where the hell is he?”

“Maybe he’s scared,” John said softly. “Maybe he’s scared and doesn’t want to see anybody.”

Alex’s eyes met Eliza’s, and he smiled faintly. “That might be true.”

Gil came back with Dr. Bard and stood by while she explained everything to John, who was contrite and courteous and even charmed her into a smile. His leg was looking as well as could be expected, she told him, and she saw no reason to doubt that he would make a full recovery.

“How much pain are you in?” she asked.

John shrugged. “Some.”

“On a scale of one to ten,” she began, “with one being no pain at all, and …”

“I don’t do that scale thing,” John said. “It hurts, okay?”

“We can give you some medication for it,” she told him.

“I know.”

Dr. Bard was an intelligent woman. “How about some ibuprofen?”

“Yeah, that would be okay.”

“You slept well last night because the anesthesia was still wearing off, but it will be much harder to sleep tonight if the pain is bad, and you need rest to help you heal. You can have a low dose of prescription pain medication at bedtime if you need it. I’ll leave an order at the desk, but it’s totally up to you.”

John looked at her gratefully. “So I could just have one pill, say, and nobody will come back and bug me about it every four hours?”

“I promise.”

“Okay.” John was quiet for a minute, staring at the ceiling. “Thank you.”

When Alex and Gil left a few minutes later, they found Dr. Bard at the nurses’ station at the end of the hall.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” she asked politely, signaling them to an empty office. She closed the door and turned to face them, leaning against the desk. “Does John have a history of drug use?”

“No,” Alex assured her quickly, “definitely not.”

“Then do you know why he’s so wary of medication? I’ll be honest with you, he must be in considerable pain.”

Alex and Gil exchanged glances, and Gil shrugged.

“His mother abused prescription drugs,” Alex said. “He thinks she died of an overdose.”

Dr. Bard frowned. “He thinks?”

“No one ever told him.”

“How old was he?”

“Fifteen or sixteen. He doesn’t talk about it much.”

“His mother died when he was a teenager, and he doesn’t actually know what she died of?”

“Look, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything,” Alex said. “He hates to talk about his family. He’s … estranged from them. Please don’t say anything …”

Dr. Bard held up her hand. “Nothing said here will ever leave this room.” She took a few steps toward the window and then back. “His father is Henry Laurens, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Henry Laurens is a friend of President King.” She turned to Gil. “I believe you mentioned that last night.”

Gil nodded. “I did.”

“Why?”

“Because this is a Have hospital, and I wanted to do anything I could to be sure that John got the best possible care.”

“For what it’s worth, not everybody who works here agrees with the President’s economic designations.”

“Good to know,” Gil responded evenly.

Dr. Bard walked over to the window again and stood staring out at the gray drizzle. “I will always give the best care I can to any patient,” she said, but her voice might have been the tiniest bit defensive. She turned around. “Thank you for being candid with me. John is lucky in his friends. You can call the nurses’ station at any time for an update.”

“Thank you,” Alex said politely. “Eliza will be staying here for most of the day. She’ll keep us posted.”

“Is she his girlfriend?” Dr. Bard asked, smiling.

Alex nodded. “Yeah.” Why complicate things with explanations?

*          *          *          *          *

Jacob and Johan were already there when Alex and Gil got to Betsy’s. The chilly drizzle had ensured that any remaining hot spots in the kitchen hadn’t flared up, and the place looked almost as it had when they left. Johan had already set up the shop lights, but it was cold and there was no way to get any heat.

“It must have been cold yesterday,” Alex commented, shivering, “but I don’t remember.”

“Adrenaline,” Jacob said. “It’s amazing what you don’t feel in a crisis. Anyway, it’s colder today than it was yesterday.”

Alex nodded, not bothering with his usual complaints about the cold. Today, he’d just deal with it. “What’s the plan?’ he asked Jacob.

“We’re going to shift the debris. I hate to have to say it, but we’re not worrying about anybody being injured if something falls. We can just move the pieces from one place to another. We’ll take care of Betsy’s body for her family.”

Alex gasped. “Oh, my God, her family.”

“What?”

“It’s kind of a long story, but Betsy’s family threw her out when she was eighteen and they found out she was in love with a woman. She and Jackie got married, but Jackie died in an accident not long afterward. As far as I know, Betsy hasn’t been in touch with her family in ten years.”

“ _Jesus!_ ” Jacob muttered. “What the fuck is wrong with people? How do you do that to your own kid?”

“It happens,” Alex said, thinking of John. “Do you have kids?”

“Two of them. Noah is ten and Janet is seven. They live with their mom, but we get along okay, and I see them whenever I want. There’s nothing, literally nothing, they could do that would make me cut them off.”

“Yeah, that’s the way it should be.” Alex tried to think ahead to a time when he might be a father. It seemed way too far away to get any kind of sense of what it would be like, but if it ever happened, his kid would be his kid forever, no matter what. He rubbed his hand over his face, still so tired he could hardly think. “We’ll have to get word to Betsy’s family, though. Herc knows them.” He took out his phone and sent Herc a brief text.

Jacob showed him how they were shifting the debris and where they were piling it up, and he got started. It was going to take a long time.

Danny and Tim showed up half an hour later, and Herc not long after that. Herc called his mom at work and left a message. “I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. “Any normal family would want to know, but any normal family would have accepted their daughter for who she was.”

Gil went out and came back with coffee for everybody, and then some of the crowd from yesterday began to gather again. The guy who’d been looking for his cousin Jared last night gave them the good news that Jared was home safe. “He said he ran into a friend here and they decided on the spur of the moment to go see a movie, and he went home with his friend and slept there. They didn’t know anything about this until this morning.”

“Well, thank God for that,” Alex said, glad for Jared’s family’s sake. It was frightening how close they had all been to death. He and John were alive because Marty had picked a table far from the counter, Johnny because he’d been in the kitchen, Deb because she had just been lucky in the way the debris fell on her, and now Jared because he decided at the last minute to go to a movie. _Every day we make tiny decisions like where to sit, and it could be a matter of life or death. If we stopped to think about it, we’d be paralyzed. Better to just keep doing what we’re doing._

He and Danny lifted a heavy piece of lumber and shifted it to the pile against the wall, and when he turned around, there was Mark Willett, with a black eye, a bruised face, and a bandage on his forehead.

“What the hell?”

Mark put out his hand. “I’m sorry, Alex – I would have been here, I swear. Marty called me.”

“I know. What happened?”

“I took a shortcut through a couple of alleys, and I got mugged.” He shook his head. “New York, right? Knocked me out, took my wallet and my phone. When I woke up, there was blood all over me, thought I was dying.” He gestured to the bandage. “Five stitches, so it’s really nothing, but I sat in the clinic for hours until they got to me. That and the bruises and a concussion. They made me do a ton of paperwork because it was the result of a crime, they said, and then some asshole Greater came to interview me – for a mugging, seriously?”

“You okay now?”

“I’ve got a god-awful headache, but yeah. The concussion messed me up – I couldn’t think straight, and I didn’t have a phone, so I went home and went to bed. When I woke up, I came right over. I …” He looked around vaguely as if his mind still wasn’t clear. “Alex, Marty said it was a bomb. Was it really? Here?”

“Oh, yeah. Mark, this is Jacob, he’s a fireman, and he showed up yesterday and saved Deb’s life. We’d never have known what to do.”

“The fire department came, then?” Mark asked.

Jacob shook his head. “Alex should have said I’m a former fireman, currently unemployed Deplo. Emergency services didn’t come last night.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Yeah, well … we did okay. I know you worked here. I’m sorry about your friend Betsy.”

Mark looked from Jacob to Alex. “What do you mean?”

“Betsy’s dead, Mark,” Alex said. He tried to say it gently but he was too tired to do more than get the words out.

“Ah, shit.” Mark turned away and walked out to the sidewalk, stood facing the street for a few minutes. One of the bystanders offered him a bottle of water, and he drank half of it down, then came back in.

“Tell me what I can do,” he said to Alex.

“Go home.”

“What?”

“We have enough people here now. Any more and we’ll just get in each other’s way. You have a concussion, and you need to rest, so go. I’ll call … shit, never mind, just call me or Gil or Angelica in a couple of days.”

Mark suddenly realized something and looked around. “Where’s John?”

Alex took a breath. “Hospital. He’s got a broken leg, but he’s going to be okay.” he said it again, more for his own benefit than Mark’s. “He’s going to be okay.”

Mark left, and Gil called Vincenzo’s to deliver pizza, not only for them but for all the people gathered again on the sidewalk, the ordinary people who’d brought them food and water last night, and who had prayed with Cassie’s friends and Jared’s cousin. Good people, Alex thought. So many good people trying to help one another. How was it that President King couldn’t see that?

He sat on the floor next to Gil, leaning up against what was left of the front wall. Most of it had blown out, but there was about four feet left in the corner, not far from the table where he’d sat yesterday with John, Marty, and Sylvia. He ate some pizza and stared at the diminishing pile of rubble. It wouldn’t be much longer before they had Betsy’s body uncovered, and then what? Without thinking, he leaned his head on Gil’s shoulder and closed his eyes just to rest them for a minute. Gil put his arm around him and pulled him in, and Alex sighed. He was asleep in seconds.

Tim was sitting across from them, and his eyes met Gil’s, full of compassion. “Let him sleep,” he said.

Gil nodded carefully so as not to disturb Alex.

“You too, maybe?” Tim suggested.

Gil nodded again, barely moving. His lips brushed Alex’s forehead gently, then he rested his head against Alex’s hair and closed his eyes.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Samuel Bard was the founder of Columbia University's College of Physicians and Surgeons. I decided that women need more representation, so Dr. Samantha Bard makes an appearance.  
> There might be a little more information about John's past in this chapter if you read carefully between the lines.  
> Some things to think about as our guys try to recover from the bombing: the obvious question, who did it? Why? How will the squad regroup and continue the work of the Movement? And Eliza's question: "Do you think they'll try again?"  
> Thanks so much to all of you for continuing to read this story, and thanks for the kudos and comments. I love hearing from you. <3


	65. Fools Who Run Their Mouths Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and the others finish clearing out the coffee shop. A member of Betsy's family shows up. Arrangements are made for Betsy's memorial service. Alex goes to see Deb and talks to Marty. Things don't go well.

Angelica arrived right after Jacob and Johan were able to lift Betsy’s body and lay her carefully on a cleared space behind an undamaged table. Tim was sitting with her, head bowed. Danny grabbed Angelica’s arm as she came in.

“Hold up a minute,” he said, making sure she stood still.

She stared at him, part of her mind noticing that he was so tall now that she had to look up to meet his eyes. He didn’t say anything, just kept his hand on her arm and let her take it in – Alex and Gil asleep in the corner, looking as innocent as kindergarten kids at nap time, Tim sitting on the floor, and beside Tim … oh. That was why Danny had stopped her. She put her hands over her eyes and leaned forward, and Danny held her. For a full minute she stayed motionless and silent, and then she began to cry. Danny kept his arms tight around her, rubbing circles on her back and stroking her hair until she was done and she pulled away.

“I want to see her,” she said.

Danny nodded and walked with her, and Tim moved over to make room.

It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours, and Betsy looked almost like herself, but with a stillness unknown in life. Her face and hair were covered with dust and dirt, and without speaking, Angelica climbed over the debris to get to the ruins of the kitchen and started opening drawers. She found some towels that were still clean and took them with her. When she got back, Danny handed her two bottles of water. He’d understood what she was doing.

Angelica sat down on the floor, took her hairbrush out of her purse, and did her best to brush the dust out of Betsy’s hair. Then she poured water on one of the towels and gently washed Betsy’s face, wiping off the dust, tears running down her own face the whole time. Tim and Danny sat with her patiently, not speaking, until she was done. She looked up at Tim. “It’s all I can do for her,” she whispered.

Tim took her hand. “It’s an act of love, you know, caring for the dead. You loved her when she was alive; you don’t love her less now.”

“What are we going to … what can we do about …?”

“About a burial?” Tim asked.

Angelica nodded.

“Herc is trying to contact her family,” Danny said.

Tim spoke firmly. “If her family doesn’t want to handle the funeral, we will. There’s a cemetery by the church. We’ll take care of her.”

Angelica locked her arms around her knees and put her head down. _Nat, Will, Betsy … how many more? Who will be next? John, Alex, Eliza? Please, not my sisters. Please keep my sisters safe,_ she prayed to whatever God might be listening. The Greaters had been to the house in Albany where Peggy and Katie were, where her parents were. Nobody was safe, but _Please, not my sisters,_ she begged.

She was still sitting there when she felt a touch on her shoulder and looked up to see Alex. He held out his hand to help her up and hugged her. She managed to hold the tears back, and pulled away to ask, “How’s John?”

“Okay,” Alex responded with a faint smile, “but being a pain in the ass. Eliza’s with him for now.”

Angelica nodded. She was going to have to get used to Eliza with John and Alex.

“What about Deb and Johnny?” Alex asked.

“Marty brought Johnny to Deb’s apartment early this morning. He’s got a bad concussion, so he’s got to rest for a couple of weeks, the doctor said. His arm’s in a cast, but it’s his left arm, so that’s not too bad, and he’s got a lot of stitches in his head. I think the concussion’s the worst of it.”

“And Deb?”

“Physically, she’s not in a lot of pain and will probably be fine in a few days. Emotionally, though, it’s really tough for her.”

“I think being buried alive for twelve hours would be enough to wreck anybody,” Alex said. “Add to that the fact that her boyfriend was seriously injured and her friend was killed, and I’m surprised she can function at all. Who’s with her and Johnny now?”

“Sylvia, if you can believe it. Marty had to get some sleep, so Sylvia’s staying until three, then Marty will come back, and then I’ll sleep there again tonight.”

“So Marty and Sylvia are actually helping?”

Angelica nodded. “Yeah, they are. I mean, I can’t prove how sincere they are, but Marty did a lot for Johnny yesterday.”

“Okay, it’s good to know.”

“Has anybody heard from Mark?” she asked.

“Yeah, he turned up this morning. It seems he was on his way here last night, and he got mugged on the way. His phone was stolen, and he spent most of the night in the emergency clinic.”

“Wow, talk about bad luck.”

“Yeah, I sent him home. He’s got a concussion too, and a black eye.” He bit his lip. “We’re pretty vulnerable right now, Ange. John, Mark, Deb, and Johnny are all injured, and the rest of us are exhausted and emotionally drained. If they try again …”

She held up her hand. “Don’t.”

“I’m just being realistic. If I were on the other side, that’s what I’d do. You can’t win by giving the enemy time to regroup.”

There was something in his voice that hadn’t been there before. “Do you know who did it?”

Alex didn’t answer right away. “There are some things I want to talk to the General about.”

“When?”

“As soon as I can, and not on the phone. I need to go see him.”

Jacob came over and interrupted them. “Do you have any idea who owns the building?” he asked Alex.

“Not a clue. I took home all the papers from Betsy’s desk last night, but I haven’t even looked at them. Why?”

“Well, I think we’ve cleared as much as we can, and with the beam braced, a collapse isn’t imminent. Still, this is not a safe place, and there’s no way to secure it. If anybody comes in and gets hurt, there could be all kinds of legal problems. Also, there might be insurance, and beneficiary would need to be contacted.”

Alex sighed. “Maybe I’d better go home and at least take a look at the paperwork. I’m pretty sure Betsy didn’t own the building, so whoever owns it might not even know what happened. I feel really bad for the people who lived in the apartments … maybe Danny got their numbers.”

“Maybe we could put up a few signs,” Jacob suggested.

“Signs?”

“Things like ‘Hazardous site’ or ‘No trespassing.’ Make some claims about the law. ‘Trespassers will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.’ Since there is no law that applies, it means nothing, but it might keep kids from coming in and falling over things.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

“And take a look around and see if there’s anything salvageable. We were here all night last night, but if there’s no one here tonight, there will be scavengers, signs or no signs. There might be food that’s still edible.” He paused for a minute. “People are hungry.”

Alex felt sick at the idea that there were people in the neighborhood who were so hungry they’d search a bomb site for food, but he also knew that Betsy had kept things like dried fruit in sealed bins, so there might be some raisins that would help feed kids. He thought about the generosity of the people who had brought them sandwiches last night, and realized he had work to do.

Gil was awake, so he went to him first to get some cash, and handed it to Danny. “Posterboard, markers, and sealable plastic bags. Oh, and tape to hang the signs. Angelica, can you start in the kitchen, see if there’s food that was sealed and far enough away from the back wall that it didn’t burn? Herc, there’s some usable furniture here, tables and chairs, and the stuff that was in the conference room. The office stuff too. Can you and Johan organize that, see where we could donate it?” He turned to Jacob. “Let’s be sure there’s a clear path so they can bring the desk and things out from the back. It’ll be easier if we put everything in the front. Maybe we can just tell people to help themselves.”

He and Herc were moving items out of the conference room when Gil came to get them. “There’s a girl here who wants to talk to Herc,” he said. “Says her name’s Rachel Griscom.”

Herc put down the chair he was carrying. “Griscom was Betsy’s family name, but I don’t know who Rachel is. I guess we should be glad somebody showed up.”

The girl looked about fourteen, and she seemed to recognize Herc. “Your mom came over this morning to tell my parents about Betsy.”

“I’m sorry,” Herc said. “Are you Betsy’s sister?”

She nodded. “I’m the youngest. I don’t really remember Betsy, and I never understood what happened until today.” She sniffed and rubbed her eyes. “When your mom said that Betsy was dead, you know what my mom said? She said, ‘Well, Satan has claimed his own.’ I can’t – she didn’t even care. I kept asking her to tell me why Betsy was so evil, and she wouldn’t, so I finally went to my brother George and I wouldn’t leave him alone until he told me, and – and it’s just so _stupid!_ ” She started fumbling around in her pockets, and Angelica quickly handed her some tissues. She blew her nose and wiped her eyes. “And she was my sister, and I never even knew her, and now I never will.” She dropped down to her knees, crying in earnest, and Angelica pulled her into a hug, huddling with her on the dirty floor.

Gil caught Alex’s eye and said quietly, “I’m going for coffee.”

He left, and Tim crossed the room, leaving Danny sitting next to Betsy. He knelt down on the floor and put his hand on Rachel’s shoulder. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Rachel turned to look at him and shook her head. “I don’t think anybody can help. My mom says we’re not even going to have a funeral for Betsy.”

“Well, her friends are going to have a memorial service, so maybe you can come to that.”

“Really?”

“Really. It will be at the Church of Saint Dismas. I’m the pastor there, and Betsy was a friend of mine.”

“You’re a pastor, and you were friends with Betsy?”

Tim nodded. “She was a really good person. She had lots of friends.”

Rachel couldn’t seem to take it in. “Did you know Betsy was gay?”

“Of course.” He waved his hand around. “That’s not the sort of thing that makes any difference. Herc’s gay, but you probably know that since you know his mom, and Alex over there – well, Alex has a boyfriend and a girlfriend, and they all love each other, so whatever that is, and, honestly, I don’t even know about everybody else, because I’ve never asked.”

“But you said you’re a pastor.”

Tim smiled. “There are lots of pastors who think the same way I do, and some who don’t, but I try to be on the side of love.”

Rachel started crying again.

“I’m sorry,” Tim said. “I hope I didn’t upset you.”

Rachel shook her head, trying to gulp back her sobs. “My mom says that gay people are the servants of Satan, and that they’ll all go to hell.”

Tim took a deep breath and raised his eyes heavenward before answering. “I think your mom is wrong about that.”

Angelica still had her arm around the younger girl. She looked over her head at Alex and said, “Tim’s right. We all are who we are, and we love who we love. Betsy loved Jackie very much, and Jackie loved her, and anybody who is loved like that is very lucky.”

Rachel wiped her eyes again. “You really believe that?”

“Absolutely.”

Rachel kept her eyes down, and her voice was low as she said, “I think I like girls, but I’ve been so afraid to tell anybody.”

Angelica put her hand under Rachel’s chin and gently tilted her face up. “You listen to me. There is nothing wrong with you. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You are who you are. If your mother wants to throw you out like she did Betsy, then we’ll help you.” She knew it was a reckless promise with everything else they had to deal with, but Alex gave her a smile and a nod. “For now, maybe you can talk to Tim about what you would like Betsy’s memorial service to be like.”

Rachel turned to Tim, and he said gently, “Would you like to see Betsy now?” and led her away.

“Mother-fucking parents …” Herc muttered.

“I know,” Alex agreed. “Tell your mom we appreciate her efforts, anyway.”

Gil came back with coffee and bags of donuts, so they took a break and then got the rest of the furniture moved to the front. Danny handed over the sign-making supplies to Herc, and went into the kitchen to help Angelica. She had found several sealed plastic bins with raisins, dried cranberries, and nuts that were unharmed, and she was packing them in small portions in the plastic bags.

“What about the baking pans and dishes?” Danny asked.

“Most of the dishes were broken, and some of the pans are bent from things falling on them, but a lot of them are still good.”

“I think we should notify the people who were living here that we’ve got a few pieces of furniture and a little bit of food. Most of them don’t have anything left.”

“Do you know how to get in touch with them?”

“Sure. I got their numbers yesterday.”

“Of course you did. I’ll finish this up, you go talk to Alex.”

“We want to be fair,” Alex said when Danny consulted him. “Can you call all of them and see what they need most, make some kind of list? How many families were there, anyway?”

“Five – well, five tenants, because not all of them were families. The apartments were small, two on each floor. One was empty, two of them just had one person living in them, two couples, and then another couple with a baby. I’ll call everybody, but can we get some kind of inventory together while I’m doing it? Then we’ll know exactly what we’ve got and how best to divide it up.”

“Good idea,” Alex agreed, and assigned Johan to make the inventory.

“You should be thinking about going home soon,” Gil told him.

Alex shook his head. “I want to go to Deb’s first and check on her and Johnny, but I’m waiting until after three so I can talk to Marty.”

“Maybe I should come with you.”

“Why? You think I might lose my temper with Marty or something?”

“It’s a possibility,” Gil responded, “but I’d like to see Deb and Johnny too.”

Alex shoved his hair off his face. “Of course. Sorry, I can’t seem to think about anything else except trying to find out who did this.”

“Understandable.” There was a long pause, and then he asked, “Do you know?”

“Not for sure. Things don’t fit together right. I need to ask Marty some questions.”

Gil nodded. “Let me know if I can help.”

Alex correctly understood that to mean that Gil was available to shoot whoever was responsible, but it didn’t look like it was going to be that simple. He wandered off toward the kitchen and stood where the door had once been, gazing at the smashed dishes and cups, the broken shelving, and the charred back wall.

“Did any sugar survive?” he asked wistfully.

Angelica shook her head. “The sugar and flour were in those big bins along the back wall, remember. They all burned. We salvaged quite a bit of dried fruit and nuts, though.” She gestured at a neat pile of sealed plastic bags.

“It’s something,” Alex agreed.

“You look tired,” she told him.

“We’re all tired. I’m going to go check on Johnny and Deb as soon as Danny and Johan sort out where the furniture goes.”

“You going to talk to Marty?”

“Yeah, and maybe Sylvia too if I time it right.”

“Sylvia didn’t plant the bomb,” Angelica said.

“How can you be sure?”

“She about dies of terror every time she fires a gun. She wouldn’t handle explosives.”

“What if somebody else assembled it, and she just had to put it in place?”

“I still can’t see it.”

“What if she didn’t know what it was?”

“What?”

Alex shrugged. “Maybe somebody says to her, ‘Could you put this under the counter at Betsy’s for me? Don’t tell anybody, it’s a surprise for Betsy.’ Would she do that?”

Angelica’s face was pale. _“Mark?_ You’re saying you think it was _Mark?”_

“I’m not saying anything, Ange. I’m just looking at possibilities. Mark’s on the list, but he didn’t know about the fake meeting we had set up. That was the Inner Circle only, except for Marty, and I stressed _need to know_ with Marty. The thing is, I don’t know if Marty told anybody. He’s an idiot. For all I know, he chatted to his cop buddy Nick about it.”

“Oh, God, what a mess.” She ran her hands though her hair which was dusty and tangled again.

“I’m not going to make any definitive move until I talk to the General, so even if I figure out who it was, I may not tell anybody.”

“Gil offering to shoot him for you?” she asked.

“Oh, that goes without saying.”

It took another hour for Danny to contact all the displaced tenants and match up their needs with the available items. As it was, nobody got everything they needed, but everybody got something. They arranged for pick-up, and gave bags of fruit and nuts to everybody who had lived in the apartments. There were still a lot left, so Alex told Danny to hand them out to people on the sidewalk. He did, giving extra to anybody with kids.

Tim had managed to contact Rachel’s aunt Nancy, who had been estranged from her sister for years, but who was more than willing to help. Tim was going to take Rachel to her aunt’s house, but there were other details he needed to discuss with Alex and Gil.

“I’m going to take Betsy’s body back to the church so we can bury her in the church cemetery. We’re going to be breaking about twenty laws, not to mention church policy, in doing that, but I don’t care. The thing is, we should do it tomorrow. We don’t have a lot of time.”

They understood. “Tomorrow it is, then,” Alex agreed. “Can we make it in the afternoon?”

“How about three o’clock?”

“Yeah, that would be good.”

“I’ll need some help digging the grave in the morning,” Tim said tentatively. “Danny said he’d help, but he has that cut on his shoulder.”

“No, Danny’s not going to help,” Alex responded. “Danny needs to get some sleep.”

“Not really,” Danny said behind him.

“Let me look at that cut,” Gil ordered.

Danny pulled his shirt off sulkily, wincing when he had to move his shoulder. Gil took a small container of hand sanitizer out of his pocket and cleaned his hands before he lifted the bandage. “Eliza did a good job. She butterflied it, so it’s almost as good as stitches. You’ll have a scar, though.”

“I don’t care.” Danny tried to shrug and winced again.

“No digging, though,” Gil told him, retaping the bandage.

“It’s not that bad. I don’t want to be the only one …”

Gil leaned in. Danny was tall, but Gil was taller. “Listen to me. If you open that cut, I will have to clean it again and stitch it myself, probably with ordinary sewing thread because I don’t have any suture material. I also don’t have any Novocain, so it would hurt like hell. Or it could get infected, and then we’d have the option of taking you to one of the clinics designated for Deplos. How does that sound?”

“Jesus, Gil, _okay_.” Danny literally took a step back, looking a little apprehensive. “I’ll do whatever you say.”

Gil took a breath. “I’m sorry,” he said contritely. “It’s just … I’m feeling anxious about everybody’s safety right now.”

“I get it,” Danny told him, “and anyway, I know you’re right.”

Alex had been talking to Jacob, and he assured Tim that there would be at least four more volunteers to dig in the morning.

“Bring clean clothes,” Tim suggested. “You can shower in the apartment instead of going home and coming back.”

Alex nodded. “Okay, we’ll be there. Gil, are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you going to go see John?” Danny asked.

“Later, after I go to Deb’s.”

“Can I go with you?”

Alex was about to say no, but when saw Danny’s face, he couldn’t.

“He can come with us to Deb’s and then we’ll go see John and I’ll take you both home,” Gil said.

“Okay,” Alex agreed, “but you have to let me talk to Marty without causing any trouble.”

Gil and Danny looked at each other and nodded. “Of course,” Gil said.

“Absolutely,” Danny promised.

*          *          *          *          *

Marty answered the door at Deb’s apartment and let them in. There was an open laptop on Deb’s coffee table, and Sylvia was on the couch with her feet tucked under her and a book in her hands. She looked up a little nervously.

Alex glanced around. “Where are Deb and Johnny?”

Marty nodded toward the bedroom. “I think Johnny’s asleep. Deb was lying down, but she said she’d get up when she got your text.”

“I’m right here,” Deb said, stepping into the room. She was pale, and the bruises on her face and arms were more noticeable with all the dust and dirt gone. There was a long scrape from her elbow to her wrist on her right arm, and she limped a little as she walked to the chair and sat down.

“How do you feel?” Alex asked, pulling up one of the kitchen chairs.

“It only hurts when I move or breathe,” she responded with a twisted smile. She held up her hand. “I’m not complaining. I know I’m lucky.”

“And Johnny?”

“The worst of it is the headache. They gave him some prescription stuff for it, but it makes him sleepy.”

“That’s probably for a reason,” Gil said. “It takes a lot of rest to recover from a concussion.”

Deb nodded. “He’s sleeping a lot. His arm is okay. It doesn’t really bother him. He just hates the headache and he says he can’t think clearly.”

“Actually,” Gil began, but she cut him off.

“I know,” she said. “That’s part of the concussion, and it will take a few weeks to get better. I guess there’s nothing to do but wait it out.” She looked down and bit her lip, then turned to Alex. “We’re leaving.”

“What do you mean, you’re leaving?” Alex asked, genuinely puzzled.

“Leaving New York, leaving the country. We’re going to Canada.”

_“What?”_

“I’ve nearly been killed twice now,” Deb told him. “That’s enough. One of my friends from high school, Julia, left the day after the election. She was smart. She’s in New Brunswick, just across the border from Maine.”

“Deb, they’ve closed the border …” Alex reminded her.

“I know. There’s a lake, just a small lake in the middle of some godforsaken woods, but it’s right on the border, half in Canada and half in Maine. We’ll hike into the woods in Maine, and Julia will meet us in her boat at the edge of the lake. If anybody sees us, we’ll just be three friends who went for a row and maybe weren’t paying attention to how close they were to the border.”

“That’s risky as hell, Deb.”

She shrugged. “No more so than staying here. Johnny and I would like to live past our twenty-fifth birthdays, Alex. The prospects don’t look good in New York.”

“How have you been communicating with Julia?” Alex asked.

“Secure phone. I’m not an idiot.”

“Where’d you get a secure phone?”

Deb stared at him blankly. “What are you talking about? You gave it to me.”

Alex felt his heart hammering. “You used that phone to make plans to cross the border?”

“Yeah.” Deb was frowning. “Alex, what …”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Deb,” Alex yelled, jumping to his feet. “You put every single one of us in danger every time you used that phone to talk to somebody who didn’t have a secure line. Does that matter to you at all?”

Gil put his hand on Alex’s arm, and Alex tried unsuccessfully to shake it off.

Deb wasn’t backing down. “Well, if the Greaters heard anything, we’d all be dead by now, wouldn’t we?”

“It hasn’t occurred to you that maybe that’s what they were trying for yesterday?”

Her face went white. “No – no, it can’t be because of that, it was because of that meeting …”

“What meeting?” Alex asked, another wave of fury sweeping over him. He whirled around to look at Marty, who was sitting on the couch with Sylvia. Gil tightened his grip.

“The strategy meeting with the people from Boston and Philadelphia,” Deb said, but her voice was starting to get shaky.

Alex stared at Marty as he asked Deb, “Did Marty tell you about that meeting?”

“Ye-es,” Deb said nervously.

Gil managed to get in front of him before he got his hands on Marty, and Danny grabbed his right arm and twisted it behind him in one of John’s self-defense moves. “Get the fuck off me!” Alex shouted, kicking backward uselessly.

_“Arrête!”_ Gil ordered, getting hold of his shoulders. _“Il vaut pas la peine. C’est fini, tu comprends? Tu peux rien faire.”_

Alex was raging. He swung back to face Deb. “My God, my God! I trusted you! Why didn’t you – for the love of God, Deb, you could have told me. I could have made sure the line was secure. That girl, Cassie, who just came in for coffee – she’s dead. Betsy’s dead.”

“No!” Deb insisted, her voice finally breaking. “You can’t … there’s no way to know if that’s …”

Alex ignored her and turned on Marty. “Who else did you tell?”

“I just … I only talked about it to people who knew, Alex.”

“Nobody fucking knew, Marty. It was _need to fucking know_. I told you that.”

“But they were in the Movement.”

“Did you understand anything I said? _Need to know._ Why the hell would I even say that if everybody knew?”

“I thought …”

Alex was breathing like he’d just run a mile. “No, you didn’t. You didn’t think at all.” He pulled away from Danny and threw his hands in the air. “I’m done. I’m done with all of you. Deb, go get me your phone and Johnny’s, and any ID cards you have.”

Deb silently left the room and came back with the phones and IDs. Alex shoved them into his pocket. “Are these the only IDs?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t …”

“Shut up and listen to me, all of you,” he said through his clenched teeth, “and be sure Johnny gets the message too. You’re done with the Movement as of now. Don’t talk to me. Don’t ask me for help.” He looked directly at Deb. “You should leave for Canada soon. I hope you make it.” He turned back to Marty. “You can go back to playing games with Sam Seabury and his friends. Just stay away from me.”

He took a step toward the door, Gil and Danny warily on either side of him, and then he turned around. “I may never know which one of you is responsible for the Greaters getting the information, but you killed two people. One of them was your friend, and the other was an innocent college girl. I hope to God the thought of that keeps you awake every night for the rest of your miserable lives.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betsy Ross was one of 19 children; about half of them lived to grow up, and one of them was a sister named Rachel, so here she is.   
> May 23 was Deborah Samson Gannett Day, at least in Massachusetts. If you follow me on Tumblr (@daisy-rivers), I posted about it. In this story, though, Deb has used some very bad judgment. So has Marty -- at least right now, it looks like just bad judgment on both their parts, but maybe there's something else going on. At best, they've complicated Alex's search for the mole.  
> Alex is beside himself at the moment, and it looks like the Movement -- at least the New York chapter -- has had a setback. I hope seeing John and Eliza makes him feel better.  
> I will be out of town for the holiday weekend so won't be posting for probably at least a week. Maybe while I'm gone, you guys can figure out who the mole is.  
> Thank you as always for the kudos and the lovely comments. <3


	66. Spies on the Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex uses logic to analyze information and is almost positive he knows who the mole is. A memorial service is held for Betsy. Alex, Eliza, and John realize how lucky they are. Alex calls the General and makes plans to meet with him at Headquarters.

Danny sat in the back seat with Alex, keeping an eye on him but letting him rant. Gil deliberately took the long way around to the hospital to give Alex some time to settle down. Alex finally stopped yelling and sat silently chewing on his lip and frowning. As they neared the hospital, he looked out the window and seemed to realize where they were.

“Gil, can you pull over somewhere so we can talk before we go in?” he asked.

“No, Alex, we’re in New York City,” Gil reminded him patiently. “You don’t ‘pull over’ here. We can talk in the parking garage, though, if you want.”

Alex shoved his hair back. “Right, yeah. That would be good.”

Gil maneuvered the Audi into the parking garage and drove to one of the upper levels where there were few cars. He had no idea what Alex wanted to talk about, but it wouldn’t hurt to have as few people as possible see them. He shut off the engine and turned toward the back seat, waiting for Alex to speak.

“Okay,” Alex said after a minute or two, “now we know that the mole could have hacked Deb’s phone calls or picked up information from Marty. Does that widen or narrow the pool of suspects?”

“Widen, I would think,” Danny said, “but we don’t know yet if the bomb was planted that night because the mole knew there was supposedly a strategy meeting or if that was just coincidence. Betsy’s has been a target for a while.”

“Right, but not an important one. Loring could have shut Betsy’s down any time he liked, but he didn’t.”

“Wait,” Gil interrupted, “are you saying that they were treating Betsy’s as some sort of trap – that they knew we met there, but waited until they thought they could take out a group of leaders all at once?”

Alex nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. They stopped the van and harassed Nat and Patty, but I don’t think that was intended to be as serious as it was. It escalated because Officer Crandall molested Patty.”

“That makes sense,” Danny said.

“The other thing is that Nat was targeted.” Alex went on. “Why him?”

“You really think it was personal?” Gil asked. “Not just because he was a member of the Movement?”

Alex hesitated. “I’m not sure, and again, I think it went further than the original intent. When they saw Nat smash the phone, they overreacted trying to get him to give up information …”

“And he died,” Gil finished for him.

“Yeah.” Alex took a breath. “Let’s look at it as if it were a Venn diagram …”

“Are you serious?” Danny asked.

“Yes. Shut up. It can be useful.” He drew circles in the air as he spoke. “The first circle is all the people Marty might have mentioned the meeting to.”

“That’s a big circle,” Danny muttered.

“That’s everybody in the Movement,” Gil told him.

“Right, and I would add a few unknowns. So let’s say the Movement membership in New York, and two or three unknowns, just in case. The second circle is anyone who might have hacked Deb’s friend’s phone.”

Gil frowned. “That could be anybody.”

“Not really. First, somebody would have to be aware that she was making calls to Canada, and would have to know that she was using a secure phone but her friend wasn’t.”

“Why would she tell anybody about that?” Danny asked. “She’s not stupid.”

“I agree,” Alex said, “so I would think this is a much smaller circle, just Deb’s friends. Aside from Johnny, who’s going to Canada with her, a handful of people.”

Gil put up his hand. “Hold on. How can Deb’s plan to go to Canada be related to the bombing? That seems to me to be irrelevant.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “If you wanted to kill as many Movement members as possible, wouldn’t you want to make your attempt before two of them left town?”

Gil thought about it and then conceded the point, “Okay, maybe.”

“There’s one more circle,” Alex continued. “It’s the smallest one. Who would have a reason to want Nat Hale out of the way?” He paused to let them think about it. “Now where would those three circles intersect?”

Gil’s eyes met his. “Alex, you can’t be sure …”

Alex shrugged. “Maybe not a hundred percent, but it fits, doesn’t it?”

There was total silence, and then Danny said, “Oh, shit.”

*          *          *          *          *

John was fully dressed and sitting up in a chair when they got to his room. “I’m going home,” he announced.

Alex hugged him. “Really? That’s great! How did you convince them to let you out?”

Eliza gave Alex a look over John’s head. “He turned on the John Laurens charm full blast,” she said.

Alex grinned. “That’s a dangerous weapon.”

“Have you seen the physical therapist?” Gil asked.

“Yeah, he was here for a while, and he gave me a lot of exercises to do at home, and then I’ll see him twice a week.”

“And are you going to follow his instructions?” Gil wanted to know.

“Yes, he is,” Alex and Eliza answered in unison before John had a chance to open his mouth.

John looked at Danny and rolled his eyes. “As if I wouldn’t cooperate,” he said. He turned to Alex. “Can we leave now?”

Alex pushed his hair off his forehead. “Yeah, but there’s some stuff … Eliza, can you call Angelica and Herc tell them to meet us at the apartment? And Gil, can you pick up Tim if he’s available? I need everybody together so we can talk.”

“What’s going on?” John demanded.

“Let’s go home,” Alex said. “We’ll talk about it there.”

Less than an hour later, they were gathered in the living room, and John was complaining that he had to sit in a chair because it was too hard to get up off the floor with his brace on. “The physical therapist said I only need the brace for a week and I don’t really need crutches at all unless it’s too painful to walk without them.”

“And is it?” asked Tim, seeing the crutches leaning up against the wall.

“It’s not too bad,” John told him.

“It’s okay to use the crutches,” Gil said. “Even though the bone is stabilized with the rod, the muscles and ligaments need time to heal. It’s not like you get a reward for pretending you’re not in pain.”

“You’d be surprised,” John muttered flippantly.

Gil didn’t ask him what he meant because the pizza arrived, and Herc and Eliza handed it out while John sat in his chair and bossed them around.

“All right,” Angelica said to Alex after they all had pizza, “what do you want to tell us?”

“It’s kind of a lot,” Alex began, “so I’m going to do my best to break it down.” He started by telling them of Deb and Johnny’s plans to leave for Canada and then explained how both Deb and Marty had put them all at risk with their careless communication. He had to stop at that point because of all the questions.

“Do you really think any of that can be related to the bombing?” Tim asked.

“I can’t prove it, but yes. I think the bomb was put there because whoever did it thought it would kill not only John and me, but also other leaders from the Movement.”

“Then it can’t be anybody in the Movement,” Eliza said.

Alex hesitated. “I think you’re wrong on that. I think it had to have been somebody in the Movement. They’re the only people Marty talked to.”

Eliza went pale and looked around the room for support. “Come on, guys, do you think it was one of us?”

“Not one of us in this room,” Herc responded, “but somebody in the Movement, yeah. I think Alex is right.”

“I’m pretty sure we can cross Deb, Johnny, and Betsy off the list of suspects,” Angelica said sarcastically. “Who does that leave?”

“Mark, Johan, Nate, Joe, Rob, maybe Kat.” John started counting them off on his fingers. He looked at Alex. “You think maybe Kat is still mad enough at you to want to kill you?”

Alex didn’t laugh. “Not funny, and no. I know Kat supports us, but she hasn’t been active in marches or meetings.”

“But all of those guys have been part of the Movement since the beginning,” Eliza protested. “I can’t see how any of them could be a cold-blooded murderer.”

“There’s one more thing,” Alex continued, his voice hesitant, “and I’ll be the first one to say I may be wrong on this, but there was another aspect I was looking at …”

They were all silent, watching his face, Angelica with her arms folded tight across her chest, Eliza holding John’s hand, Danny on the floor with his knees pulled up, Herc and Gil leaning against the kitchen counter, Tim in one of the kitchen chairs, his eyes troubled.

Alex spoke slowly, choosing his words. “Think back to when we first began to suspect that someone was laying information on us, might be telling the Greaters about our plans … when was that?”

“You mean when Nat and Patty got stopped in Pennsylvania last summer?” John asked.

“Yeah. And since then?”

“The first day there was shooting in the streets and they came to investigate Betsy’s,” Angelica said, shuddering at the memory.

“When they pulled Nat over in Massachusetts,” Herc added thoughtfully. “That couldn’t have been random.”

“What’s the common thread?” Alex asked them. There was a long silence, and so he looked at Danny and gave him a slight nod.

“Patty and Nat’s relationship,” Danny said. “It’s not either Patty or Nat alone, but the fact that they had a relationship.”

Eliza rubbed her forehead, frowning. “I don’t see what you’re getting at.”

Angelica gasped. “Oh, my God. He sent her flowers!” She jumped to her feet and started pacing. “He was pushing her way too fast.”

Eliza’s eyes widened. “ _Mark?_ You’re saying it was _Mark?”_

Alex put up his hand. “I’m saying that there are things that point to him.”

John was sitting up straight, nodding. “Remember how mad he was when Patty was in the church and you wouldn’t tell him where she was?”

“So what comes next?” Gil asked casually, and Alex knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Nothing, absolutely nothing, until I talk to the General.”

Gil shrugged and took a small sip of wine. “All right,” he said. “I’m patient.”

*          *          *          *          *

Alex stood staring into the deep hole they had spent the last few hours digging. “I hope to God I never have to do this again,” he said.

Gil threw an arm over his shoulder. “So do I, _mon frère,_ but I think it’s going to be a long war.” 

“You’re calling it a war?”

“It is a war. On the news they’re now calling it the Insurrection.”

“How many dead, do you think?”

Gil shrugged. “Thousands, surely, nationwide. We may never know.”

“Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it.”

“I don’t.”

“Seriously, Gil? You don’t think sometimes that it’s hopeless, that we can’t possibly bring down King and his government?”

Gil looked off over Alex’s shoulder somewhere and hesitated, as if he were trying to figure out how to say something. Then he turned back and met Alex’s eyes. “It is hard to explain, but I know that we are right. I am not saying there’s no chance of defeat, or that we may not die in this war, but to not fight would be to choose the side of evil. That’s what I mean when I say I don’t wonder if it’s worth it. I have no way to know if we will succeed, but it is always worth trying to bring about justice.”

Alex smiled at him. “When this is all over and I’m President, I’m going to have that carved in stone and erected as a monument to the Insurrection.”

Gil looked at him appraisingly. “I would not vote for you.”

“Son of a _bitch,_ ” Alex said in mock indignation.

“Well, maybe,” Gil conceded with a grin. “I’ll have to see who else is running.”

They put away the shovels and went into Tim’s apartment to shower and change. Herc, Tim, Johan and Jacob had taken earlier shifts at digging Betsy’s grave. Joe Allicocke’s uncle had donated the necessary materials for Joe and Nate to make a simple coffin, and Betsy was resting in it now. It was, Tim reminded them, the way things had been done for most of history, before the modern era of undertakers and funeral homes. There would be a brief memorial service in the church.

Deb had called Angelica to ask if she would intercede with Alex so that she and Johnny could attend, and it really hadn’t been hard to persuade him. John had even convinced him to give them back their fake ID cards to make it safer for them to get across the border. “I know you’re mad,” John had said, “but, honestly, what Deb did was careless, but it’s not worth her dying for.”

John had been right, as usual, and Alex had gone to Deb’s apartment early in the morning to give her the IDs and make some sort of peace. He still wouldn’t trust her with anything – he wasn’t going to mention his growing certainty that Mark was the traitor – but he didn’t wish her and Johnny any ill.

Angelica was going to give the eulogy, such as it was, and Tim would handle the prayers, of course. Alice would play the piano.

 _There should be other people here,_ Alex thought. _Betsy’s parents and siblings should all be here, not just Rachel and her aunt. Patty should be here to speak about Betsy. If Ben and Nat were here, Nat could sing a solo._ He felt his throat tighten, and he closed his eyes for a minute, then opened them to look around the nearly-empty church.

Rachel and her aunt Nancy were in the front row, and Herc’s mom was right behind them, with Herc and his oldest sister Venus. Deb and Johnny were in the next row, and Mark Willet was sitting with them. Across the aisle from them were Danny, Eliza and John, John sitting next to the aisle so there was room for his brace. Alex and Gil were behind Eliza and John, Gil with his hand on his pocket, longing, Alex knew, to put a bullet in Mark’s head. “Not till we’re sure,” Alex had told him. “Not till I talk to the General.”

Behind them sat Nate and Joe, Johan and his sister Kat, Jacob Turck and Rob Townsend. Alex was hopeful that Kat was going to take a more active role in the Movement now. Their long-ago romance may have ended badly, but it’s not like it had ever been serious. Marty and Sylvia weren’t there. They hadn’t been told about the service. Alex felt a little guilty about that, remembering that Marty had acquitted himself well after the bombing, but he still couldn’t trust him to understand what _need to know_ meant.

Tim stood up and opened his Bible. “In my father’s house are many mansions,” he read. “If it were not so, I would have told you.”

Alex only half listened. He’d heard all the verses before. Sometimes he wondered why his mother had been so insistent on his attending Sunday school and catechism classes when she had little use for religion herself. It didn’t really matter, and there was no harm in having some knowledge of the Bible. Even Gil admitted there might be good advice in it sometimes.

Now, though, he let the words float past him while he watched Mark, looking for signs of guilt. He didn’t see any. Mark bowed his head for the prayers, and as far as Alex could tell, he paid attention to Angelica’s speech as she talked about Betsy’s independence, courage, and generosity. Eliza choked back a sob, and he leaned forward to put his hand on her shoulder. She reached up and grabbed hold of it, glancing back at him, her dark eyes filled with tears. She pulled his hand up to her cheek and kept it there, and he could see that John was holding her other hand.  His throat tightened as he thought about how lucky he was to love and be loved by those two. He wanted to keep them safe from all harm, and he knew that was impossible. John could have died the other night instead of suffering a broken leg; as it was, he knew John was still in a lot of pain. Right now, looking at John’s face in profile, he saw how tight his jaw was. He only knew a little about how much John had suffered in his past, but he was sure it had been enough for a lifetime.

He pulled his attention back to Mark as Tim led the closing prayer, and then he went forward with Gil, Herc, Johan, Nate, and Joe to carry the homemade coffin out to the cemetery for burial. It felt ridiculously light, and it certainly didn’t require all of them to lift it, but Tim had said that six pallbearers were traditional, and they had all been Betsy’s friends. It was chilly outside, one of those early spring days that feels more like winter. There was silence as they lowered the coffin into the hole they had dug that morning. Eliza had brought flowers for them to drop on top of it, daffodils and tulips, all bright yellow, and they made a splash of Betsy’s signature color in the darkness of her grave. Alex dropped a tulip and turned away immediately, looking for Eliza and John. They were right there, reaching for him. Of course they were.

*          *          *          *          *

“What day is it?” John asked. He was sitting on the couch because it was too hard to get up off the floor with the brace on his leg. His right ankle was resting on a pillow on one of the kitchen chairs. That left Alex on the floor in front of him, leaning against his left knee, and Eliza curled up next to him with her head on his shoulder.

“It’s Thursday,” Alex told him.

“Really? I feel like it should be Saturday, at least.”

“Too much happened,” Eliza said, her voice strained. John pulled her in closer and kissed the top of her head.

Alex turned around so he could see their faces. “I’m going to call the General first thing in the morning. It’s spring break next week, so if I need to go see him, at least I won’t miss any more classes.”

“I don’t even feel like my classes matter anymore,” Eliza said. “With everybody in the government ignoring the Constitution, it’s hard to see that there’s any basis for a legal system.”

“It’s the same with mine,” Alex admitted. “They got rid of all the good professors, and the ones we have now are just King’s puppets. Still, I suppose I should go sometimes just in case they say something that’s going to be on an exam.” Alex was still somehow maintaining an A average in the hope that things would eventually turn around. That was looking less and less likely.

“I’m going to call Mom tomorrow and tell her I’m staying here for spring break,” Eliza told them. “Even if you don’t have to go see the General, Alex, we should both be here to help John.”

“Agreed. How are you going to explain it to her?”

Eliza sighed. “I’ll stay as close to the truth as I can. John broke his leg, and he can’t get around by himself, and everybody else is going to be away for spring break. She’ll be okay with it.”

“Just out of curiosity, how did I break my leg?” John asked.

“I haven’t decided yet, but I think maybe you fell off your skateboard.”

John pulled back from her, looking highly offended. “You’re going to tell your mother, who loves me dearly, that I’m such a klutz I broke my leg falling off a skateboard?”

“Have you got a better idea?”

“Let me think about it … oh, I know, how about I broke it sliding into home plate for the winning run in the championship game?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “You don’t play baseball, and the championship game is in June.”

“Would Catherine know that?”

Eliza smiled just a little. “She might.”

“Well, damn. Can’t you come up with something exciting?”

Eliza’s smile trembled a little. “I could say that you had just helped rescue a girl from a bomb site, and a slab of stone fell on you, but I thought, you know, she might get upset about that.” A couple of tears spilled over.

“Ah, sweetheart, I’m sorry, I’m an idiot for making you talk about it. I fell off my skateboard. Hell, tell her I fell off a curb, I don’t care.”

Alex climbed up on the couch, and they had Eliza between them again, John wiping the tears off her cheeks, and Alex holding her hand and telling her it was going to be okay. She put her head down on John’s shoulder and pulled Alex’s hand to her mouth to kiss it. “I love you so much – both of you, I mean. I know so many things are bad, and I know we’re all in danger, but I’m still happier than I’ve been in ages.”

Alex kissed her. “That’s what Angelica said.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, in the middle of all the craziness trying to get Deb out, she said she wanted me to know. She didn’t outright say she was telling me because we could die any minute, but I understood. This is no time to keep secrets.”

Eliza was holding onto both of them tightly. “I’m so glad we figured this out. What if … what if … something had happened, and we never got the chance …”

“Sh.” John covered her mouth with his. “We’re not going to do _what if’s_ – that’s a dangerous road to go down. Look at what we have. Look at how lucky we are.”

“Yeah, we are,” Eliza said softly. She turned to Alex. “We’ve all been really stressed, and I think we should go to bed and get some rest.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “It’s still pretty early.”

“I didn’t say go to sleep.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, looked at John, then looked back at Alex. “Since John can’t move too easily, I think we should put him in the middle. What do you think?”

Alex didn’t get a chance to answer, because John said instantly, “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

Eliza kissed him, smiling. “All right, then, let’s see what we can do.”

It wasn’t even that hard getting John into the bedroom. He had a little difficulty getting undressed, but Alex was glad to help him, and in a very short time, they all had their clothes off, and Eliza was marveling again at how comfortable she was with them, at how normal it all felt. She propped herself up on her elbow and turned to John, running her fingernails down his chest as she kissed him. “You’re not going to be able to bite me this time,” she whispered.

“Oh, don’t disappoint me like that, darlin’,” he told her. “I bet I could.”

“Do you like it?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

She caught his nipple with her teeth, and he gasped.

“Good to know,” she murmured.

Alex had been watching, enjoying it, and he leaned in now to kiss John as Eliza nipped at his collarbone. John shuddered, his moan muffled against Alex’s mouth. Eliza left them to it and made her way down John’s torso, scraping his skin with her teeth. She liked his reaction when she got to his hipbone, and then she moved farther down and gave him a long, slow lick from bottom to top.

John’s breath caught in his throat and he gasped, “Ah, shit, Eliza.”

Alex looked up and watched her, eyes wide and dark, but only for a minute. “Can you share?” he asked. He didn’t wait for an answer.

Eliza’s tongue met Alex’s as they both devoted themselves to John. When Alex took him fully in his mouth, Eliza kissed and licked the crease between John’s hip and thigh, while her hand, just below Alex’s mouth, applied a gentle pressure. John was making keening noises she’d never heard before, and his hips were jerking uncontrollably. Just as he started to come she lifted her head to watch. John had his hands twisted in Alex’s hair, and he pushed up hard into Alex’s mouth, yelling incoherently.

As he slowly came down, she was there to kiss him. “God, you’re so beautiful, that was so amazing.” She reached for Alex, and pulled his mouth to hers, pushing her tongue in so she could taste John.

“C’mere,” Alex said.

John managed to gasp out a laugh. “Am I in your way?”

Alex kissed him. “As a matter of fact, _mi amor_ …”

“How about if I move so Eliza can be in the middle?” He pushed himself with his hands and his left leg, and then Eliza got between them, feeling as if that was where she belonged. “My turn to watch now,” John said, “but I want to touch, too.” He put his arm around Eliza so that she could rest her head on his chest and he could get both hands on her. She leaned back and sighed. “Please touch me,” she said. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, and I really want both of you to touch me.”

They were only too happy to oblige her. John fondled her breasts as Alex pushed her legs apart and slid two fingers into her. Then he opened her with his thumbs, keeping his fingers in place, and bent down to get his tongue on her clit. Having his mouth on her right after he had had it on John excited her in a way she hadn’t expected and didn’t even understand, but almost immediately, she felt as if she were about to explode. Alex pressed his fingers up, stroking her from the inside, and she begged him for more. “Alex, please fuck me, please …”

Alex pressed his fingers in one more time, and then positioned himself between her legs. She rolled her hips up, and then John surprised her by putting his hands on the backs of her knees, pulling her legs up and holding her in place for Alex. “Oh, God,” she wailed, feeling herself wide open and exposed, and loving it. She reached over her head and got her hands in John’s curls and held on tight as Alex pushed into her. He gasped at her slippery heat as he slid in with no resistance at all. She tightened around him immediately, and as he circled his thumb on her clit, she was already panting. She heard John whispering, “Yeah, do it, Alex, fuck this beautiful girl.” Alex pushed in again and again, so deep and hard that she felt it in her rib cage, and then in her jaw, and with John holding her in place, she felt as though she was about to break into pieces, and she _wanted_ to because nothing had ever felt so good. Alex thrust harder and faster and John kept talking to him, telling him, “Fuck our girl, Alex, she wants it so bad, fuck her.” The tingling feeling began deep within her, growing slowly, and her muscles tightened involuntarily, trying to pull Alex in even deeper. As the spasms started, shaking her entire body, she felt John’s teeth on the back of her neck, and it was as if electricity shot all the way through her from John’s mouth to Alex. She arched up, wailing, as everything whited out. Alex slammed into her to finish, and then she fell back, whimpering, into John’s arms.

A few minutes later, Alex was tight against her other side, pulling the covers up over them all. She had her back to John, and she pressed herself against him. “You bit me after all,” she murmured sleepily.

“Mm,” he responded, kissing the spot where the marks of his teeth outlined a purple bruise. “Your neck is so soft and pretty, I couldn’t help it.”

She shivered. “I don’t know why I like it so much when you bite me.”

“I like it too,” Alex said. “It hurts just enough to feel good.”

“What does that even mean?”

“A little bit of pain can be exciting. John knows exactly how much.”

Eliza wrapped her leg around Alex’s. “So you’re saying John is a really, really good lover?”

“Damn near perfect.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“I’m right here,” John reminded them.

Eliza managed to turn so that she was facing him and leaned over for a slow, deep kiss. “You’re amazing and I love you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She tilted her head back. “Alex?”

“Hm?” He was behind her now, his face against the back of her neck.

“You’re amazing and I love you.”

Alex reached around her to hold John’s hand. “Look at how lucky we are,” he said.

*          *          *          *          *

General Akhdir’s voice was troubled. “You’re right, Alex. We’re going to need to talk about it. When can you leave?”

“In about an hour.” Alex had everything ready.

“There are a few other things I want to discuss with you as well,” the General continued. “There may be some other people here.”

“All right,” Alex responded, wondering who they might be and what else was going on. The reports he was getting from other areas indicated that things weren’t going well anywhere. The news was depressing, and the government became more restrictive by the day. He hoped the General had a plan. He hoped that he would find some encouraging information at Headquarters.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up. I have a crazy month ahead of me irl, and just got a call about another project that I really need to take on (one must eat and pay the electric bill, after all), so that may slow things down even more, but I will NOT abandon our squad here, I promise, and I'll update as often as I can. Thanks for being patient.  
> When Alex and Gil finish digging Betsy's grave and Alex says, “I hope to God I never have to do this again," he won't get his wish. That's not the last grave Alex and Gil will have to dig. War is hell.  
> Hope you don't mind that I had to give Alex, John, and Eliza a little time to themselves. They've just had too much stress lately and needed a break.  
> Is Alex right about Mark? If not, any other theories? How long can Alex keep Gil from solving every problem with a gun? What will he find out at Headquarters?  
> Thanks so much to all of you who have left kudos and especially comments. You guys are the best.


	67. Meeting Out of Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and other Movement leaders meet with General Akhdir, who explains a new strategy. Alex learns about amino acids and vitamin deficiencies. Angelica visits Albany, where Katie has learned to roll over and Peggy has a boyfriend. Eliza and Gil manage John's impatience with his recovery.

General Akhdir looked at the wall for a few minutes, tapping his pen on the desk. Then he gave Alex a rueful smile. “Gave up cigarettes nearly thirty years ago, and there are times when I still miss them.”

“I hear it’s a tough thing to do.”

“Yeah, but Cathie wouldn’t marry me unless I quit.”

“Sounds like a pretty good incentive, sir.”

“It was, and I don’t regret it, but we all need ways to cope with stress.”

“Yes, sir,” Alex agreed, hoping the General wouldn’t ask him how he dealt with stress. He didn’t think either “eating all the sugar I can” or “having sex with Eliza and John” would be an acceptable answer.

“All right, then,” the General continued, “we have a lot to review this afternoon. I’m waiting for everybody else to get here.”

“Who else is coming?”

“You don’t need to know in advance.”

Alex nodded. “Right, of course.”

“How about if we get some lunch? It’s not gourmet fare, but it’s what we have.”

“MREs?”

“No, I’m afraid not. We don’t operate on that kind of scale, and it’s hard to stay undercover if we’re buying military-style supplies in bulk. No, we have a former hospital dietician who cooks for us. She can tell you everything you ever wanted to know about nutrient-dense, cheap food. You probably ought to take a few minutes to chat with her. The information might come in handy.”

“Okay.” Alex wasn’t sure why the General wanted him to know about meal preparation, but he could take a hint. They walked to the canteen, a large gathering room in the main building of what looked like an abandoned camp. This building also housed offices and a laundry room. It was surrounded by a semi-circle of rustic wooden cabins that seemed to serve as dormitories. There was also a brick structure that might have contained a generator. Nobody had offered Alex a tour, and he didn’t ask any questions. The whole place looked rundown, and that appeared to be deliberate. No vehicles were visible, and it was clear that everyone had been ordered not to follow the same pathway from building to building every time to keep the grass and weeds from getting worn down into noticeable trails. There were blackout curtains over all the windows, and despite the fact that there were a few dozen residents, silence prevailed out of doors. No one spoke aloud unless they were inside. No doors slammed; no music played. It all made Alex feel uneasy, but then, as he reminded himself, he lived in New York City.

The canteen was crowded enough even for a New Yorker, though, and the buzz of conversation sounded normal. Alex followed the General to a table not far from the door, and then stopped in his tracks. Two people were already sitting at the table: Ben Tallmadge and Dr. Barron, his old professor from Columbia.

“Holy shit!” Alex began, and then added hastily, “Sorry, sir.”

The General waved his hand. “No need to apologize on my account. Since you gentlemen already know one another, I’ll go take care of a few things before I join you.”

Ben had stood up as they approached the table, and Alex grabbed him in a hug, then pulled back quickly, concerned that he might have violated protocol. “Is that okay?” he asked.

Ben laughed. “Yeah, this isn’t exactly West Point.”

“It’s all making me a little nervous, though.”

“It’s not quite as casual as things in New York,” Ben conceded. “You here by yourself?”

“Yeah,” Alex nodded. “The General okayed it because nobody else needs to know where this is. Herc was here, though, so I thought maybe he could come …”

“No,” Ben interrupted him. “Herc wasn’t here. We move every couple of months.”

Alex looked around. “This is a hell of a big operation to keep moving.”

“Yeah, but you’d be surprised how fast we can break it down and get it on the road. We might stay here for a while, I think, because this place is pretty secure. We have our own generators and we’re out in the middle of the woods.”

“Where are your cars?” Alex asked.

Ben raised an eyebrow at him. “Seriously?”

“Shit, right, I don’t need to know.”

“I handle security here, so you definitely don’t want to try to get any information out of me.” Ben kept his tone light but Alex knew he meant what he said.

“Seriously, Ben, how are you?”

Ben shrugged and gave him a half smile. “I’m okay. I’m busy all the time, and that helps a lot, and then, you know, life goes on. Time passes, things get easier. There will never be a time when I don’t miss Nat, but now I can think about him and be glad I knew him, be glad for the years we were friends.” He put his hand on Alex’s shoulder and guided him into a chair. “What do you hear from Patty?”

“Nothing directly,” Alex said cautiously, “but she’s doing well. There’s bad news, though, Ben. Dr. Barron, you probably should know about this too.” He told them about the bombing and Betsy’s death.

Dr. Barron shook his head sadly. “A student as well, you say? It’s very distressing news.”

“John’s going to be okay, right?” Ben asked.

“Yeah, as long as he does what the physical therapist says. Eliza’s staying with him while I’m here.”

“And how’s everyone else?”

Alex answered in general terms only. He trusted Ben absolutely, but it was probably better not to give him details about Deb and Johnny going to Canada or about Marty Middicks.

“Do you have any idea who planted the bomb?” Ben asked, not really changing the subject.

“Yeah, a strong suspicion, anyway. That’s mainly what I’m here to talk to the General about, but I don’t think I should say anything yet.”

“Definitely not, but I’m curious about how the General will handle it if it turns out that it was someone inside the Movement. We haven’t had a case of treason so far. We’ve had people get disillusioned and just get out of the Movement, but nobody who’s been with us has turned against us.”

“I would much rather not have that distinction in my squad,” Alex said, “and it may or may not be the case. Obviously, it’s something that we have to be sure about before we take any action, and I assume we’ll talk about it this afternoon. The General says some other people will be here later.”

Ben smiled. “Oh, yeah, including one of your best friends.”

Alex frowned, then caught the sarcasm. “You mean TJ’s coming? I thought his whole squad was underground.”

“I’m sure the General will explain everything.”

*          *          *          *          *

Angelica was happy to be back in Albany, but knew she had to be careful about what she said. She reminded herself that the best way to protect her parents and Peggy was not to tell them anything. Right now, Peggy was on the floor playing with Katie, who had learned how to roll over and kept doing it because it got such an enthusiastic reaction from everyone. She had rolled off her blanket and was laughing as Peggy picked her up and put her back.

“She is so cute,” Angelica said.

“And she knows it,” Peggy responded. “She’s doing this to show off for you.”

Katie rolled over again and looked up expectantly. “Yes, Katie Schuyler, you are the cutest baby in the world!” Peggy told her.

Angelica felt a tiny twinge of regret that she didn’t get to spend as much time with Katie as Peggy did. She was never going to be a part of Katie’s life in the same way that Peggy was, especially because Peggy had decided that she was going to go to SUNY at Albany and live at home instead of attending Columbia like her sisters. _It’s okay,_ she consoled herself. _Peggy and Katie will be close like Eliza and I are, and it will be fine._

Catherine came into the room, talking on her phone. “Well, give him my love and tell him I hope he feels better soon – and to stay off skateboards in New York!” She hung up and smiled at Angelica. “Poor John. What a crazy thing to happen.”

“I know, right?” Angelica agreed. “He’s so embarrassed about it.”

Catherine waved away the idea. “Accidents happen to everybody. It's just a shame that Alex had that seminar this week.”

“Alex is always going to some seminar or conference,” Angelica lied. “He’s a genius, and he’s already working on things that most people start in grad school. John said he could manage on his own, but we didn’t really think that was a good idea.”

“Certainly not. What if he fell when no one else was there? I’m glad Eliza offered to stay with him. She says she’ll come home next weekend when Alex is back, so it all works out.” Catherine smiled. “It’s nice when your kids grow up and want to help their friends.”

“When can Alex and John come back up here?” Peggy asked. “How about in the summer?”

“Who knows?” Angelica responded vaguely. “Alex is probably taking some classes this summer, and actually I’m thinking about it again. If I pick up a few credits over the summer, my senior year might be a little easier.”

“I can’t believe you’re going to be a senior next year,” Catherine sighed.

“Me too!” Peggy reminded her.

Catherine nodded, smiling. “Two graduations next year, one from college and one from high school, and then Eliza will graduate the year after that.”

“And then Katie, about sixteen years after that,” Peggy said.

“Let’s enjoy that time. It goes fast.”

“I’m not so sure. High school feels like it’s taking forever.”

“It did to me too,” Angelica told her sister, “but now it seems like it was over in a minute. Besides, there’s a lot to enjoy about it.”

Peggy raised her eyebrows. “Really? What would that be? Chemistry class or essays on Lady Macbeth’s motivation?”

Angelica laughed. “I was thinking more of, you know, sports, field trips, boyfriends …”

“I do like track,” Peggy said. “I’m thinking of asking Mr. Shepherd about competing in 5K in the fall.”

“Whatever works for you,” Angelica told her, “but I preferred Debate Club.”

Peggy tossed her curls. “Of course you did.” She glanced at her mother, then back at Angelica. “I do kind of have a boyfriend, though.”

“Really? Why doesn’t anybody ever tell me anything? Who is it?”

“Steve Pendleton. His sister Cilla was in Eliza’s class, I think.”

“Okay, I remember her. She’s nice.”

“Steve’s nice too,” Peggy said.

“When do I get to meet him?” Angelica asked.

“Let me think about it.”

*          *          *          *          *

John was sitting on the couch with his brace off, but at Eliza’s insistence, his right foot was resting on a pillow on top of a footstool. “It doesn’t hurt much, really,” he said when she fussed about it.

She had assured herself that everything was all right, and now she was lying down with her head in John’s lap, while he played with her hair and told her how pretty she was. It was an odd mixture of the comfortable and the unfamiliar. She’d known John for nearly two years, and there was nothing unusual about being close to him, but now every touch affected her in a different way.

“So pretty,” he murmured, caressing her cheek with his finger.

She snuggled closer to him, warm and relaxed. “I like this.”

“Me too,” he said. “It’s peaceful.”

She smiled. “What do you mean?”

John ran his fingers through her hair. “You know I love Alex, right? It’s just that he can be exhausting. Exciting, of course, but exhausting. You’re completely different.”

She thought about it. “I can see that. I think I feel the same way. There’s nobody like Alex, and being close to him is like being close to a bonfire. A while ago, I told myself that if I ever let Alex in, I’d go up in flames – and I did. Once he touched me, I couldn’t resist him.”

“I know exactly what you mean.”

“Really? It was like that with you too?”

“Maybe a little more complicated, but the feeling was the same. Alex is … irresistible.” He slid his arms under her and pulled her up to sit in his lap so he could kiss her, starting at the corner of her mouth and working his way across, and then down her neck.

“Oh, _God,”_ she said, leaning her head back to bare her throat to him. He ran his teeth from her jaw to her collarbone, and she gasped. “Are you sure there’s no vampire ancestry in that old South Carolina family of yours?” she asked. “Because once you bit me, I was done for.”

John gave a rueful laugh. “That would explain a lot, actually, but no, I think all my ancestors were human.” He went back to kissing her slowly, cradling her head in his hands. “I’m glad I didn’t scare you with the biting.”

“I couldn’t possibly be scared of you. Anyway, I already loved you by then.” He had his hand inside her shirt. She gave a contented hum and nuzzled his neck.

He pushed up her bra and was playing with her breast, running his thumb over the nipple. “I’m not like Alex,” he said, just making the statement.

“You mean you’re not a bonfire? No, you know what you’re like?”

“What?”

“A riptide.”

 _“What?”_ He pulled back to stare at her, incredulous. “How?”

She tangled her fingers in his curls and kissed him. “You know how deep water can look calm, with sunlight sparkling on it, but just under the surface there are dangerous currents that can pull you in and carry you away before you realize what’s happening? That’s you.”

He didn’t say anything for a minute, just holding her, kissing her mouth, her eyelids, her cheeks while his hand caressed every part of her softness that he could reach. “Dangerous?” he asked finally, focusing on the most important word.

“Not to me,” she told him, “and not to Alex, but now … how can I say it? Now that I’m close to you this way, not just as a friend, I feel something deeper in you, under the kindness and sweetness that we all know, there’s that riptide.”

He kissed her again. “You’re not wrong. You know I would never hurt you …”

“No, of course not,” she assured him. She bit her lip. “It’s just … I know it’s there now, and it … it’s exciting. I think that’s what I feel when you bite. I know you’ve got yourself under control, I know I’m safe, but I sense the danger behind it. It’s different from a bonfire, but it has the same effect.”

“God, Eliza,” he said, “First, where did you study psychiatry, and second, you talking about me like that has made me …”

“I can tell,” she said, smiling, her hand on the front of his pants. “It’ll probably be more comfortable in the bedroom. I’ll get your brace.”

“Don’t bother,” he told her and stood up, tentatively placing his weight on both legs. He held out his hand. “C’mon.”

“Do you want to lean on me?” she asked.

“I do every day,” he said, smiling, He put his arm around her shoulders, and as they walked the short distance to the bedroom, he put his mouth close to her ear and whispered, “Now I want to get your clothes off and find a soft, sweet place to bite. I want to put my fingers inside you and press on that spot so you’ll make that noise I like so much. Would you like it if I do that while I’m biting? Tell me what you want, darlin’…”

Eliza pulled her jeans off and stepped out of them. “Everything,” she told him, her arms around his neck as she rubbed herself against him. “I want everything.”

*          *          *          *          *

General Akhdir returned when the cafeteria line opened for lunch, and he carried his own tray like everyone else. Each of them received a generous portion of rice and beans, a piece of cornbread, and a dish of applesauce. It was tasty and filling, if not fancy. Conversation at the lunch table was mostly between the General and Dr. Barron and focused on recent statements from King and his officials and how various policies were clearly unconstitutional. Alex paid careful attention, because this was his area of interest, and he posed an occasional question as tactfully as he could.

“The problem,” Dr. Barron said, “is that of course not every possibility is dealt with in the Constitution. For example, rationing of goods like fuel or food is never mentioned. When it was done in the past, its constitutionality was never questioned, but it was done only in time of war or verifiable shortages, so there was no challenge. King seems to be using rationing in a punitive way only.”

“Can’t it be challenged in court?” Alex asked.

The General and Dr. Barron exchanged a glance. “It has been,” the General responded, “but keep in mind that King and his Congress have packed the judiciary with his lackeys. The very few judges who have ruled against him have soon found themselves impeached on trumped-up charges, or worse.”

Dr. Barron looked directly at Alex. “One was killed in a hit-and-run accident, one drowned in a swimming pool although she had been a champion swimmer in college, and a third died in a house fire, along with his wife. You see why so few would risk opposing King.”

Alex nodded, a chill running through him. “I should have known,” he said. “Gil called him a murderer of children after the Washingtons were killed.”

“Gil?” the General asked.

“Sorry, sir. Lafayette. His friends call him Gil.”

“Of course. Does he still have family in France?”

“He has a cousin, but other than that, I don’t know. His parents died when he was young and he was raised by an aunt and uncle, but they’ve been dead for a while now too.”

The General nodded. “He has a connection at the French Embassy, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, sir, a friend of his uncle, I believe.”

“Mr. Gérard,” Ben put in unexpectedly. “I had Thanksgiving dinner with them last year.”

“How did that come about?” the General asked.

“I stayed in New York for a short time after Nat was killed,” Ben explained without flinching. “I was staying in Gil’s apartment, and he took me along to the Embassy dinner. I was pretty much a mess at the time, and the Gérards were very kind to me.”

The General seemed to Alex to be probing for information without asking direct questions. He wasn’t sure why he would do that, but he paid close attention.

“Alex,” the General said now, “I’ve arranged for you to meet with Amy Simmons, our dietician. I’m sure you’ll find it interesting.”

Alex was equally sure that he’d be bored out of his mind, but he went to the small office off the canteen kitchen as directed. The door was open, and there was a woman seated at the desk. She had dark skin and wore a bright blue headscarf, and she looked up when Alex knocked tentatively.

“Hi,” she said, spinning her desk chair around to face him. “I’m Amy, and the General says you need information on nutrition.”

Alex must have looked as bewildered as he felt, because she laughed. “Don’t worry,” she told him. “All squad leaders are getting the briefing. There was a problem when the Norfolk squad went underground and nobody had a clue how to provide nutritionally adequate food for that many people without frequent visits to a supermarket.”

“So this is just in case we have to go underground?” Alex asked, still not clear on why he needed the information.

Amy shrugged. “The General hasn’t said. I do what he tells me to do, but I don’t ask him why.”

Alex flushed, embarrassed. “Right, of course. Okay, just tell me what I need to know.”

“I think you should take notes,” she told him.

“Yeah, of course.” Alex pulled out his phone.

She looked at him for a long minute, and then leaned back in her chair. “First, let me explain about amino acids.”

*          *          *          *          *

Gil happened to drop by while John’s physical therapist was there for his session. He introduced himself, asked politely if he could observe, and settled in to watch and listen attentively. After the therapist left, he said, “You have been walking without the brace.”

“Not much, just around the apartment,” John told him a little defensively.

“But your ankle is still more swollen than it should be.”

John rolled his eyes. “It hardly hurts at all.”

 _“Bon, alors,”_ Gil began, and then switched immediately to English when he saw John’s face. “I think you have a very high tolerance for pain, and so you say it does not hurt very much, when in fact to someone else it might seem very painful. I think that you need to be aware of this, and perhaps not rely solely on your own perceptions.”

John snorted impatiently. “What does that even mean?”

“It means that even if you don’t think it hurts much, you should rest it more than you are resting it.”

“I’m fine, really. I don’t know why I have to just sit around for another week.”

“You’re not fine, and you won’t be just sitting around, you will be healing. You can’t heal without rest.”

“John,” Eliza said gently, “didn’t your physical therapist just say the same thing?”

John looked at her sulkily from under his thick eyelashes, which made her heart flutter but didn’t help her focus on what he was supposed to do. She sat down next to him and put her hand on his arm. John still didn’t say anything, so she leaned in close, brushed his hair back and whispered something in his ear that made him smile.

Gil watched with interest and approval.

John snickered and put his arm around Eliza, pulling her in. “Okay, fine,” he declared. “One more week with the brace on all the time except when I’m in bed or in the shower.” He looked suspiciously at Gil. “Did Alex tell you to be here when the physical therapist was scheduled?”

“No,” Gil replied honestly. “Eliza did.”

John turned back to Eliza. “You guys ganging up on me?”

Eliza nodded. “If we have to.”

“Man, this sucks,” John muttered. “I hate sitting still.”

“Why don’t you draw?” Eliza suggested.

“Draw?”

“Yeah, just draw pictures like you used to. You always had a sketchbook with you when I first knew you.”

John smiled. “Yeah, I did. I’ve been so busy doing IDs and documents that I’ve gotten away from it lately.”

“Where’s your sketchbook?” Gil asked.

“It should be on one of the shelves right by the door,” John told him, waving vaguely in the direction of the room he used as a studio. “It has a green cover – oh, and there’s a box of colored pencils next to it.”

Gil brought him the drawing materials and John opened the sketchbook and took out a pencil. “I’m doing portraits,” he announced. “Who’s first?”

*          *          *          *          *

By the time Amy Simmons finished her lecture on protein sources and vitamin deficiency diseases, Alex felt like his head was spinning. Some of it sounded vaguely familiar from high school biology, but it hadn’t been his favorite subject, and he didn’t remember much. Fortunately she gave him a manila envelope full of printed pages with information she told him he would need. “You’re not going to be able to get to a supermarket, and you’re going to have – how many? Eight people? Ten? – who need to eat enough to stay alive and reasonably healthy.” She frowned at him impatiently. “Do you have somebody who can cook?”

“Uh, yeah,” he mumbled, “John.”

“Well, then, give John the information. You might want to start laying in goods now if you have storage space.”

Alex pushed his hair off his face. “I feel like you think I should know what you’re talking about, but, honest to God, I don’t.”

She sighed. “If you don’t, you will. It’s only a matter of time. The General will tell you.”

“Well, thank God for that.”

Amy sniffed and pointed to the door. “Go. I’m sure you have a meeting.”

Alex left the room more confused than when he had entered and made his way back to the canteen. It was nearly empty now, but Ben had waited for him. He waved the thick manila envelope at him. “What the hell was that all about?”

Ben smiled. “I see you’ve met Amy.”

“Why do I need to know about scurvy?” Alex asked.

Ben’s smile faded. “The General is going to talk to all of us now.”

“All of us?”

“Come on.”

He followed Ben down a long hall past a kitchen where he could hear the clanging of pots and pans being washed and into a conference room. It looked like he and Ben were the last ones to arrive. Seated around the table with the General and Dr. Barron were some familiar faces: Crazy Tony, Ethan, TJ, Frank Marion, Prudence Cummings, and much to his surprise, Dr. James Wilson, who had gone missing from Columbia. Alex greeted Dr. Wilson first.

“We’ve been worried about you,” he said. “You just disappeared.”

Dr. Wilson glanced at the General and then back to Alex. “It was the safest way to handle things. It would probably be best if you didn’t mention to anyone in New York that you saw me here.”

“Of course,” Alex agreed.

The General gave them all a few minutes to say hello, and Alex took a seat between Ben and Crazy Tony. He leaned across Tony to address TJ. “Are all of your squad okay? We didn’t know what to think when we heard you went underground.”

TJ nodded, for once not acting resentful of Alex asking him questions. “It was a close thing, but we all got out.” His face changed. “Ben told me about Betsy. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” Alex responded. It was odd to have a conversation with TJ and not feel irritated. He suspected it wouldn’t last.

General Akhdir cleared his throat, and they all fell silent. “The last time I met with all of you was a year and a half ago in the Capital. We knew trouble was coming, but we couldn’t predict what form it would take. Now we see. Essentially, we have been fighting a war for the last few months, and things are not going well. We don’t have the manpower, the equipment, or the funds to sustain this fight.”

Alex felt like the bottom had fallen out of his stomach. Was the General going to tell them that it was over?

“Those who have been expecting an easy victory have either given up or will give up soon. Those who stay with this fight through this dark time are those who truly serve their country. In the future, they – you, I hope – will deserve the thanks of all the men and women of our nation. Remember that we are fighting tyranny, and tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered. We know, though, that what is easy is not what is valued. The more we cherish something, the harder we are willing to fight for it. It’s no surprise, then, that freedom itself comes at a high price in both blood and treasure.”

He paused and looked slowly around the table. “We have lost such dear friends already,” he continued, and Alex could have sworn that his voice trembled a little. “I miss George and Martha every day, and I miss the statesman Parker would have become. I miss the unfulfilled promise of his daughters’ lives. Everyone at this table misses someone in the way that I miss George, who was my closest friend for many years.”

Next to Alex, Ben looked down, resting his forehead on his hand. On the other side, he saw Tony’s jaw tighten and knew he was thinking of Will.

“Never think that they will be forgotten or that their deaths have been in vain. It’s quite possible that in the future, your grandchildren will attend schools named for heroes like George Washington or Nathan Hale. We will continue this fight, but for a time, our tactics will change. We are going to pull back for a while, reserve our strength, regroup, if you will. We are also working through diplomatic channels to seek foreign aid. Our allies – our former allies, I should say, since King has done everything he can to alienate them – are troubled by what is going on, and it is possible that some of them might be willing to help us, if not with actual troops, then with funds or supplies. Dr. Barron, who fortunately speaks more languages than I knew existed, is in charge of diplomatic relations, and there will be more on that topic later. For now, I am asking each of you to focus on a core group of people, no more than ten or twelve, who feel as strongly about the Movement as you do. There may be others who are interested and even supportive, but they need to believe that the Movement is withdrawing from action. We will not support the fighting in the streets, because we are clearly outmanned and outgunned, and we will lose far too many people without making any strategic gains. What I’m asking you to continue is the small acts of sabotage. Slash tires, hack websites, interrupt shipping, but do it discreetly and carefully. Hone your skills. Take the time to learn the technology of hacking or the details of building bombs. Don’t let them forget who we are, but don’t let yourself be a target.”

This wasn’t at all what Alex had wanted to hear. He had hoped that the General would have encouraging news, that King’s forces were starting to weaken. That wasn’t the reality.

“Never forget,” the General concluded, “that we are in this battle not for ourselves, but for the future. We may not live to see free elections, but we fight so that our children will.”

Children. The idea of a generation of this conflict was almost overwhelming – but what else could they do? What was it Gil had said? _… to not fight would be to choose the side of evil._

Alex knew which side he was on. He knew who he trusted, and now he was going to tell the General who he didn’t trust, and why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What isn't the General saying yet? The meeting's not over.  
> The first full paragraph of the General's speech is paraphrased from Chapter 1 of "The American Crisis" by Thomas Paine, published in December, 1776. Paine's writing was critically important in garnering support for the Revolution and for bolstering morale throughout the struggle. Good stuff to read if you have some free time.  
> Amelia (Amy) Simmons was the author of the first American cookbook, "American Cookery," published in 1796. I gave her a job at Headquarters.  
> There are, in fact, schools named for both George Washington and Nathan Hale, and I hope your grandchildren (or children, or, heck, you yourself, because Washington U, for instance, in St. Louis, is a darned good school) will someday attend them.  
> Thank you for your support and for kudos and comments. It's always lovely to hear from you.


	68. On Your Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meetings continue at Headquarters. John doesn't like sitting still, so Gil tries to help. Eliza, John, and Gil start going through the records Alex brought from Betsy's office, and find some information.

The General had given them a twenty-minute break, and Alex stood outside with Crazy Tony, leaning against a sagging fence. “Did this use to be a camp?” he asked.

Tony glanced around and shrugged. “Probably. Scouts, maybe? The kids sleep in the cabins, meet up in the big building for whatever Scouts do in groups? Who knows? Were you ever a Scout?”

“Me? No.” He looked past the small cabins surrounding the overgrown clearing to the edge of the woods. He didn’t see any paths, just a solid line of trees. The bumpy, rutted road that he had come in on paralleled the trees. He narrowed his eyes, staring.

Tony followed his gaze. “What? What are you looking at?”

“Where do they keep the cars?”

“How should I know?”

“Well, think about it – we drove in, and our cars are under that tarp thing behind the big building. They’re probably not visible from the air.”

“From the _air?_ Jesus, paranoid much?”

“I’m just trying to figure it out. They must have cars somewhere, probably trucks, too. Ben said they can break down the whole operation and move it on short notice, so they’d have to transport all these people and a lot of stuff … how do they do it?”

Tony looked at him, half baffled, half irritated. “I don’t know. I mean, I have no idea at all, and that’s fine, because I don’t need to know.”

Alex blew out a breath. “Yeah, I get that.” His eyes went back to the dark edge of the woods. “I like to understand things.”

“Come on,” Tony said, clapping him on the shoulder. “We don’t want to be late for Part Two of the world’s most depressing briefing.”

When they returned to the meeting room, they saw that Amy Simmons had joined the group. Alex was still puzzled about why he had had a briefing with her. They all settled in, and the General addressed them again.

“You all know that things went wrong for TJ’s group in Virginia a while back, and they had to go into hiding. They immediately, although accidentally, became our test group for surviving underground.  I’m going to let TJ tell you what happened.”

“You may know the names of some people in my group, or you may not,” TJ said. “I’m not going to use names, and I’m not going to be specific about locations at this point, but I think there are things that we learned that everyone can benefit from. Most of the members of my squad were in college like me, two of us at William and Mary, two at Old Dominion in Norfolk, and one at another college. The other one has already graduated. We had been doing the same things as the rest of you, engaging in sabotage, but also marching and demonstrating. We found out via regular hacking that warrants had been issued for all of us on the charge of sedition.”

Prue Cummings put up her hand. “What do you mean, regular hacking?”

“You know we’re lucky enough to have a member of my squad who is a serious tech genius,” TJ responded. “Because of that, we have regular access to the Greaters network. We can see what warrants are issued at the time that they are issued. We’d been able to warn a lot of people, but we didn’t really expect to see our own names.”

“Do you know why the Greaters decided you were seditionists?” Ethan asked.

TJ glanced at the General, who gave him a brief nod. “I think so. We got overconfident and didn’t watch our backs. After the warrants were issued, my tech person found that our system had been hacked. We’d assumed that the Greaters didn’t have the ability to do what we had been doing to them. We were wrong.”

TJ flushed with embarrassment, and Alex understood that. He thought over what precautions were in place for his own hacking and realized he needed to add much more protection.

“So, lesson one from this,” TJ was saying, “is keep your firewalls up.”

“Then you were able to escape because you saw that the warrants had been issued before the Greaters could get to you, right?” It was, as usual, Frank Marion who saw the big picture before anyone else did.

“Exactly,” TJ nodded. “We grabbed what we could and ran.”

_We need to be more aware of this,_ Alex thought. _We need to keep essentials like all the spare ID’s in a bag or file box. We’ve got stuff all over the apartment and if we had to leave in a hurry, we’d never have time to pack it._

“And where did you go?” Prue asked. “Did you have a pre-arranged meeting place?”

“No,” TJ admitted. “We were winging it, texting each other … listen, I know this is part of the reason the General has us all here today, so that nobody else gets caught off-guard like we were. The only reason we’re not dead is that our hacker saw our names, and it’s just pure luck that they were online at that moment. We were lucky, too, that my family has a big piece of property with a lot of old buildings on it, barns and sheds from back when it was a working farm. We were able to meet up in a barn that’s not too far from my parents’ house but can’t be seen from there because of a couple of hills and a lot of trees. We stayed there for a while, but it couldn’t possibly have worked for the long term – no electricity, no plumbing, and a leaky roof.”

There were a few smiles at his description, but nobody really thought it was funny. Alex tried to imagine what it would be like to have everyone in his squad together in that situation. No _plumbing?_

“How did you do it at all? I mean, how did you even get drinking water?” he asked.

“That was our first concern,” TJ said. “The first few days, even though my parents knew we were there, they couldn’t leave the house without being followed, and we couldn’t leave the barn for fear of being seen. A couple of us had grabbed bottles of water, but not nearly enough, and, anyway, that’s only a very short-term solution.”

The General intervened and cut TJ off. “What this demonstrates,” he said, “is a need on all our parts for planning. I’m recommending that all of you keep several cases of water and a supply of the essential food items that Amy has discussed with you in your vehicles at all times. You also need to store your documents in duffle bags or suitcases so that you can transport them easily and quickly. On our part, here at Headquarters, we have been working to identify and maintain a handful of safe houses so that if any other squad is compromised, they will not be in the same situation that the Virginia squad was. TJ and his group are now in one of those safe houses, and they are able to conduct operations from there.”

“What do you mean by ‘conduct operations’?” Tony asked.

The General gave a faint smile. “You don’t need to know precisely, but more or less the same things all of you have done and are continuing to do. They have been responsible for several effective acts of sabotage, particularly to disrupt transportation. Our goal for now is to keep King’s government guessing, to occupy an inconvenient number of their forces, and to cost them as much as possible in time, money, and personnel. TJ’s squad has been doing all of that.”

Alex looked at TJ with new respect, and wondered what kinds of sabotage his group had performed. Maybe he could ask later and get some ideas.

“While all that is going on,” the General continued, “we will do all we can to strengthen our forces, while Dr. Barron is engaged in negotiating with other governments. In a couple of months, TJ will accompany Dr. Barron to Europe to work toward getting aid for our efforts.”

That statement hit Alex right between the eyes. All the positive feelings he had had towards TJ in the last couple of hours vanished in a wave of plain old jealousy. “Excuse me, sir,” he said to the General, while Tony kicked him under the table in warning, “may I ask why TJ is the one who has been selected for that job?”

The General gave Alex a long, cool look. “No, you may not.”

The dismissal was definitive, and Alex’s face burned with embarrassment at having been slapped down in front of everyone. He stared at the table and barely listened to the rest of the discussion. A short time later, the General adjourned the meeting. “It’s almost dinner time, and we’ve made provision for you all to stay at least one night, so I’ll see you all in the canteen in about an hour, and then we’ll meet again at oh-eight-hundred tomorrow.”

As they stood up to leave, he added, “Alex, I’d like you to stay. You too, Ben.”

*          *          *          *          *

John had completed a pencil portrait of Eliza and was finishing up one of Gil, complaining that Gil’s hair was taking too much time to draw.

“I’m not the one who commissioned this portrait,” Gil reminded him.

“I know, I’m just saying. I should have told you to put your hair in a ponytail.”

Gil sighed, and Eliza said, “When you’re done, maybe we can sort through that pile of papers that Alex brought home from Betsy’s. He said he needed to get to it, but we don’t know when he’ll be back, and there might be something important in there.”

“That’s a good idea,” John responded, looking up from his drawing. “He brought her laptop, too. Maybe I can see if I can get into that while you guys look at the papers.”

Eliza picked up her phone. “I’ll order pizza.”

John held his sketchbook out at arm’s length and narrowed his eyes at it. “It’s okay,” he said. “Seriously, though, Gil, I’d like to do a portrait of you sometime.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you’ve got an interesting face. Almost symmetrical, but the shadows are challenging – and of course the hair is worth working on.”

Gil frowned. “Uh … thank you?”

John handed him the finished pencil sketch, and he studied it for a minute, and then smiled. “This is really good, John.”

John shrugged. “Like I said, it’s okay. Eliza’s is better.”

“Let me see,” Eliza said.

He held it up, and she smiled. “I like it.”

Gil examined it. “I see what you mean. You’re right, it is better, a better likeness.”

“I know,” John said, rolling his eyes. “I just told you.”

“Are you always that good a judge of your own work?” Gil asked.

John had to think about it. “A lot of being an artist is having what they call a ‘good eye,’ being able to see things clearly, or in a certain perspective, or being aware of colors and shapes that not everybody notices. If I have that, then I can see my own work clearly too, so yeah, I think so.”

“That’s an unusual gift,” Gil told him.

“Really? I never thought about it. I just know when I make something that’s basically shit, I throw it out and start over.”

Eliza bent down and kissed him. “You’re amazing.”

“Sure,” John agreed, “whatever you say.”

The pizza arrived, and when they had finished eating, Eliza dragged out the bright yellow tote full of the papers and other items Alex had brought home from Betsy’s office. She took out the laptop first and handed it to John. Then she and Gil sat down at the table and started going through the papers.

“I guess Alex just grabbed everything that was there, and I understand he didn’t have time to examine everything, but we can probably throw away these receipts for flour and sugar and things,” Eliza said. “I think they’d only be useful for tax purposes, and nobody’s going to file a tax return for Betsy next year.”

“Wait,” Gil cautioned. “If there’s a will in here somewhere, her heirs may be responsible for doing that.”

“I don’t see how they could,” Eliza told him. “There’s no death certificate. We tried to notify the authorities of her death, but we couldn’t get anybody to take the report. I guess that means technically, she’s not dead.”

Gil frowned. “What if there’s a will? Would that mean nobody could inherit from her?”

Eliza shrugged. “I’m only pre-law, but in some circumstances, you can go to court and have someone declared dead. Or at least you could before King screwed up the government. Who knows what is and isn’t legal now?”

“I’m in!” John said from his place on the couch.

“That didn’t take long,” Eliza said.

John smiled. “Betsy didn’t log out of her email. Most people don’t because it’s a pain to sign in all the time, but that makes it easy to get into everything else. Let me look around and see what I find.”

“Do you have any folders or envelopes that we can sort things into?” Gil asked John. “There’s not enough room on the table to keep putting it in piles.”

“I’ve got an empty file box in the printer room. Use that.”

Gil got the box and they filed receipts, pay records, and utility bills by date. “I think this can all be thrown out,” Gil said, “but we should probably check with Alex first.”

John laughed. “Yeah, I imagine Alex would be a little upset if he comes home and you say you’ve tossed all the stuff from Betsy’s office.”

“Oh,” Eliza said suddenly in a different voice. “This is Betsy’s will.”

She opened the stiff legal envelope, took out the will, and unfolded it. It was short, and it took her only a few minutes to read it. She looked up with a shaky smile and tears in her eyes. “She left everything to Patty.”

She handed it to Gil, who read it carefully. “It refers to her business, but not the building, so that pretty much proves what we thought, that she rented the space. I guess she thought that Patty would just take over the business.”

“Patty talked about that, you know, about having a coffee shop of her own one day,” Eliza recalled, the tears spilling over. “Nat wanted to teach high school English. They just wanted, you know, a nice life, not power, not money, just teaching literature to kids and making scones. They should have had it.”

John shoved the laptop out of his way and held out his arms, “Come here, sweetheart,” he said, and Eliza crossed the room to him, crying. John pulled her down next to him, holding her tight, stroking her hair.

Gil turned his chair around and watched them, conscious of a rare moment of envy. Alex, John, and Eliza had not only found love, they had found the kind of comfort in one another that he wanted for himself. He couldn’t call it peace – life with Alex would never be peaceful – but a confidence that love brings with it. _True love,_ he reminded himself. _Only if it’s true love._ Even as the thought went through his mind, he mocked himself. _You’re twenty-one years old, nearly twenty-two, and you still expect true love to come into your life as if you were in an old movie?_ _Do you think you’ll hear bells ringing or see fireworks?_ He thought about it as he watched John kiss Eliza gently and saw her look up at him, wipe her tears, manage a small smile. Maybe it wasn’t totally unreasonable to hope for something like that for himself.

He hadn’t bothered mentioning to anybody that he was seeing Caitlin Alexander, who was a distant cousin of Johan and Kat Livingston. He and Johan had run into her one day, and he had gotten her number, and it had developed from there. Not that it had developed into much. The Alexanders were rich Haves, and Caitlin, while claiming she had no interest in politics, was used to the kind of life that money and privilege bring and clearly expected it to continue. Gil knew there was no possibility of a long-term relationship, but Caitlin was cute and pleasant company and liked sex almost as much as he did, so they saw each other fairly often. He hadn’t said a word to her about his activities with the Movement and didn’t plan to. He had a feeling that her family, who liked the Marquis de Lafayette very much indeed, would strongly disapprove of Gil Motier, sniper.

Eliza had gone into the bathroom to wash her face, and John was back on the laptop.

“Gil, take a look,” he said. “I got into Betsy’s bank records.”

*          *          *          *          *

Alex stiffened, preparing himself for a reprimand that he realized he probably deserved. Frank was the last one out the door, and he shut it quietly behind himself. Alex was still staring at the table.

General Akhdir sighed. “If you ask questions, Alex, you have to be prepared to hear them answered.”

“Yes, sir,” Alex said, finally looking up.

“First,” the General went on, “I don’t mind the question, although that wasn’t the best time to ask it. Second, I don’t owe any of you an explanation of any of my decisions, but sometimes I will give my reasons for something if you ask. Sometimes I won’t, either because there are factors involved that can’t be revealed or because I don’t want to take the time. Finally, whether I explain or not, it’s not open to argument.”

“Yes, sir,” Alex said again, realizing he’d gotten off easily.

The General’s face relaxed. “I didn’t make the decision without taking advice from people who have a lot of information and different points of view. There may well be a matter at some time in the future that I ask for your advice on, so don’t get your nose out of joint over this.”

“Yes, sir,” Alex said for the third time.

The General hesitated for a minute, as if considering giving Alex more information, then apparently decided to move on to the next topic. “There’s more than one thing I want to talk to you about, so let’s go to the easiest one first. Tell me about this pastor who is part of your group. I know I asked about him before but I want more information.”

Alex was puzzled, but he told the General what he knew about Tim’s background. “Ben knows him too,” he added.

Ben nodded. “Tim’s a good guy, sir.”

“Not married? No kids?”

“No,” Alex said, then frowned. “Well, he’s guardian of a teenage boy, who’s also actually part of our squad, Danny Phoenix. Danny’s mom wanted to get out of New York and moved to Tennessee. She gave Tim guardianship of Danny so that he could stay in New York and continue to work with the Movement.”

“How old is Danny?”

“Sixteen now, sir.”

“So it would be at least two more years before Tim Dwight would be – let’s say, unencumbered, always assuming he doesn’t meet someone he wants to marry in the meantime.”

“Sir, if I understood what you were trying to find out, I might be able to help.”

The General nodded. “I suppose there’s no harm in discussing it with you. I have noticed that your group, despite having suffered severe loss, is extremely close and unfailingly supportive of one another. I think at least some of that may be a result of the spiritual guidance that Pastor Dwight has offered.”

Alex considered that carefully. He wasn’t sure the General was right. “None of us are religious,” he said. “Danny is the only one who goes to church.”

“Maybe _spiritual guidance_ was the wrong phrase to use. Maybe I should have said _moral leadership._ ”

“That makes more sense. Tim is a good person to talk to, and he won’t compromise his principles, so he can’t be talked into anything. If he thinks we’re making bad decisions, he’ll tell us.”

“That’s the kind of person I want,” the General said.

“I’m sorry, sir, want for what?”

“As this Movement grows, and it will grow, we need leaders whose consciences aren’t corrupted by power or greed. Armies have always had chaplains. We don’t have any now, and I suspect we need some, if not now, then certainly later. I think Pastor Dwight sounds like someone who could head a chaplain corps, train some others for us. You’ve told me he doesn’t interfere in military decisions, that he sees his role as different from, say, yours.”

Alex nodded. “Yes – same goals, different paths, we say.”

“Do you think you could broach the subject with him?”

“I could, and I’ll be glad to try, but I know his first responsibility is to Danny.”

“Well, let’s start him thinking about it. Maybe he could make a visit here and we could discuss specifics.”

“I’ll talk to him when I get back, sir.”

“Good.” The General paused for a moment and then picked up a pencil. “Now let’s address the elephant in the room. It looks like someone in your group is working for the Greaters. Fill me in on what you already know.”

Alex reviewed everything carefully, starting with the Greater in Pennsylvania who accidentally revealed to Nat that someone had laid information on him, Patty, or the van, and then through the times that Betsy’s seemed to be a target, to Nat’s arrest and death in Massachusetts, and then finally the bombing.

General Akhdir made notes on paper as Alex talked, and then reviewed them when Alex concluded. “And you think that there may have been a personal animus against Nat Hale?” he asked, with a brief glance at Ben.

“I think so.”

“And why would that be?”

“The person I suspect seemed to have romantic feelings for Nat’s girlfriend – well, his fiancée. He encouraged her to break up with Nat because of the distance between them, which really wasn’t a consideration for either of them, and then, after Nat’s death, he began paying her personal attention that she didn’t want.” Alex looked sideways at Ben, not knowing how much of this Ben already knew.

“What kind of attention?” the General asked.

“Sent her flowers, but mostly wanting to spend time with her, hugging her occasionally, nothing that was truly inappropriate.”

“It wouldn’t be, though, would it?” Ben asked. “He was playing a long game. If he was interested in Patty, once he got Nat out of the way, he had time to be the kind, sympathetic friend. She might have leaned on him if it hadn’t been for the rest of you.”

“I’ve thought that too,” Alex said. “She didn’t need him because we were all there for her, especially Angelica. We’d even talked about arranging our classes in the fall so that there would always be someone available to babysit. And I think John and Gil were going to help her out financially, although they wouldn’t have discussed that with me.”

The General tapped his pencil on the table. “So she had no interest in this other young man?”

“If I may, sir, she wouldn’t have anyway,” Ben said. “She and Nat were very much in love. I’m not saying Patty will never find someone else at some time in the future, but she certainly wasn’t interested in a new relationship right after Nat died.”

The General tapped his pencil some more, then asked, “What’s his name, Alex?”

“Mark Willet, sir – well, his first name is actually Marinus, but he goes by Mark.”

“Tell me everything you know about him.”

Alex related Mark’s participation in Movement activities, his work at Betsy’s, his friendly demeanor to everyone, and finally, his absence at the time of the bombing, and then his appearance the next day with injuries consistent with a mugging. His story was plausible, but not provable.

“It’s not enough,” the General said.

“I know we don’t have proof,” Alex responded, “but we’re still looking.”

“You need to do a very thorough investigation because if this Willet is the mole that you think he is, he’s responsible for three deaths, including Nathan Hale, who had as much potential for leadership as anyone I’ve seen.” The General’s voice was bitter. “Ben, any suggestions?”

“I think it hinges on where he was the night of the bombing. What you need to focus on is whether or not his mugging story is true.”

“There’s a police report,” Alex said.

“But if he’s in Loring’s pocket, the police records will be faked to order,” Ben reminded him. “You say he had injuries? What were they?”

“Black eye, bruises, cut on his face. He said he had five stitches.”

“Did you see the cut?”

“No, it was bandaged.”

“Was there a lot of swelling on his face or his black eye?”

Alex frowned. “No, just bruising. What are you …?”

Ben and the General exchanged looks. “It can be done with make-up,” Ben said. “We’ve used it to put people undercover, make it seem as if they’d been in a fight they hadn’t really been in.”

Alex blew out a breath. “Shit. I wasn’t even paying attention. He was only there for five minutes. I sent him home. Dammit, I didn’t think …”

Ben put his hand up. “There was no reason for you to.”

“No, that’s just it, there was. I was already suspicious of Mark. I should have double-checked, made him wash his face, _something_ …”

“It’s done now,” the General said. “You’re going to have to be extra vigilant, because whoever it is will try again. That bomb was meant to take out you and John Laurens, and, theoretically at least, Tony and Ethan. If it had succeeded, we would also have lost Lafayette and the other boy … what’s his name?”

“Danny Phoenix.”

“Right.” The General sat silently, staring at the paper on which he’d written whatever he’d found important in the conversation. He took a breath. “I think you’re right that this Willet is guilty, not just of treachery, but of murder. You must watch him very closely, but at the same time, you can’t go on the assumption that he is the only possibility, so you must continue to look elsewhere.”

“What if we find proof that it’s him?” Alex asked.

“Oh, then you kill him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Livingstons did have a cousin named Catherine Alexander (Caitlin here because we've already got a Catherine and a Cathie and a Katie -- damn unimaginative 19th century parents), whose family was fabulously wealthy, not that the Livingstons were poor by any means. As far as I know Lafayette never met her, but the poor boy needs a girlfriend.  
> Do you think Tim will consider General Akhdir's plan? How would Danny feel about that?  
> It looks like the General has no doubt at all about how to deal with the mole, but that makes it absolutely vital that Alex find proof.  
> Thanks for the recent kudos and comments. I always love hearing from you. I will be incommunicado for the next week at a conference/seminar thing with meetings scheduled literally from 8:00 a.m. to 8:00 p.m. daily (we get meal breaks, yay). It's a good conference, really, and I'm glad to be invited and hopefully I'll learn a lot and teach a little, but obviously no writing time for the week. I'll be back (please sing that line in Groff's voice) though, and will get back to this story as soon as possible. See you all then. <3 <3 <3


	69. Foes Oppose Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and Ben talk about things. John is impatient. Tim gets a message to Patty's mother. Alex reviews plans to go underground. Rob Townsend turns up with surprising information.

Alex spent two nights at Headquarters, with more meetings about how to survive underground. His squad was ahead of some of the others because they all had at least two fake IDs. They were behind because they had no organizational plan to move them all out safely.

“You might not all have to move at once,” Ben said. “Maybe a couple at a time. That would be preferable, really, as long as it’s safe.”

“How many safe houses are there?” Alex asked Ben. They were alone after dinner on the second night, sitting on the rickety step of one of the cabins as the sun began to sink below the trees.

“We’re working on it,” Ben responded, not looking at him. “If anybody needs to go underground, there will be a place.”

“You’re planning that we’ll all be underground at some point, right?”

Ben stared at the line of trees silhouetted against the rose-gold sky.

Alex huffed in annoyance. “Come on, Ben, it’s me. I’ve already figured it out. We all go underground, continue sabotage, make small random strikes, disrupt transportation, destroy Have property, keep the Greaters occupied until we raise enough manpower and hopefully get some foreign assistance.”

Ben smiled and shook his head. “And if you’re right, then what do we do?”

“Then we fight a revolution and bring down the government.”

Ben kept looking at the trees. “The Insurrection’s just about over, Alex. We lost.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“We might all be underground for a long time – years probably.”

“It’s still worth fighting for.”

“What is?”

“The country. The Constitution. Free elections. The benign influence of good laws under a free government. A nation of laws, not of men. You know it all as well as I do, Ben.”

Ben leaned forward, his elbow on his knee, his chin on his hand. “You think we have a chance? I mean a real chance of doing it, saving the country?”

Alex pulled Ben’s hand away from his face and gripped it tightly. “Absolutely. Listen to me, Ben. We’re going to do this. We’re not going to do it today, or even this year, but we’re going to do it. They may outnumber us now, but more and more people will come over to our side as they realize what’s happening. We have good leadership. We have a lot of smart, dedicated people working on this cause.”

Ben didn’t look at him, but he didn’t let go of Alex's hand. After a minute, he lifted it, and held it against his cheek, and Alex felt the tears. Alex moved closer and pulled Ben’s head down on his shoulder. They sat there for a long time, until it was too dark to see the edge of the forest, until they were both cold, and Alex’s arm began to ache. He shifted position a little and ran his fingers through Ben’s hair, and Ben made a sound that was half sigh, half whimper.

“I miss Nat so much,” he whispered.

“Were you in love with him, Ben?” Alex asked softly.

“No … maybe.” Ben sat up straighter and took Alex’s hand again, lacing their fingers together. “I loved him. I still love him, but we never … ah, shit, Alex, where’s the line between loving somebody and being in love with them?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never found it.”

Ben almost laughed. “Why does that not surprise me? Does John know that?”

“John knows everything. And I should probably tell you, it’s John and Eliza now.”

There was a long pause. “John _and_ Eliza? And you?”

“Yeah.”

Another pause. “How does that work?”

“Very well, actually.”

That got a choked laugh out of Ben. “So it’s still you and John, but now it’s also you and Eliza?”

“And John and Eliza.”

 _“Jesus.”_ Ben let go of his hand and turned to face him.

“We’re … maybe it sounds crazy, but we’re happy together.”

“How’s Angelica handling it?”

Alex snorted. “She’s not the biggest fan.”

Ben shook his head. “I always thought you and Angelica might end up together.”

Alex took his time answering. “I won’t say the thought never crossed my mind, and I’m pretty sure it’s crossed her mind too, but we’d probably kill each other within the first month of a relationship, so it’s good that it never happened.”

“Those Schuyler sisters though,” Ben said admiringly.

“Peggy’s cute too,” Alex told him. “I think she’s sixteen now, still in high school.”

“I wonder where we’ll all be when it’s over – you, me, Tony, Frank, the Schuyler sisters. Nat and Patty would have been married by now, and the baby’s due in – what, another month or so? Will any of us want to bring kids into the world?”

“I’ve thought about it. Not now, but someday, yeah, I’d like to have kids. That’s what we’re fighting for, right? For the kind of future that we’ll want for our kids.”

“That’s what I tell myself.” Ben was quiet for a while. “I hear from Mary Floyd whenever she can get a message through.”

“She goes to see Nat’s mom pretty often.”

“I know. She’s a really good person.”

“Is she the one who makes you think about having kids?”

“Yeah, she is.”

“That’s all you need, then. That’s worth fighting for right there.”

“Yeah. That’s enough, isn’t it? Thanks for reminding me.” He pulled Alex close once again. “I love you, you know.”

Alex kissed his forehead gently. “I love you too, Ben.”

*          *          *          *          *

When Alex got home, he found John perched on the kitchen counter with his leg straight out to the sink, instructing Danny in how to sauté the ground beef for tacos.

“Don’t try to get down!” Alex yelled at him, his heart contracting, as it always did, when he saw John’s face light up. He dropped his bag on the floor and went straight to John and kissed him hello enthusiastically. “I missed you so much.”

“Missed you too,” John told him. “It’s boring without you.”

Alex kissed him again, and Danny said, “Get a room.”

“We have a room,” Alex reminded him, “but apparently, we also have company.”

John laughed. “Danny’s not company.”

“Where’s Eliza?” Alex asked.

“She went out to get tomatoes and lettuce for the tacos, and Tim went with her because he needed to pick up some things too. Danny’s babysitting me.”

“Lucky you.”

“Yo,” Danny said, turning away from the stove to face him, “is John wearing his brace? Yes, he is. Is he keeping his leg elevated? Yes, he is. Is he doing all his physical therapy exercises, even though he whines and complains and curses in both English and Spanish while doing them? Yes, he is, so how about _Thank you, Danny, for taking care of him?_ ”

“Thank you, Danny, for taking care of him?” Alex said meekly, and then turned back to John. “I gather you’ve been a pain in the ass, _mi amor_.”

“You know I don’t like sitting still.”

“Can you get off the counter and come sit in the living room with me?”

“And leave Danny alone with the food?”

Alex looked at the pan of ground beef. “I think it’s done.”

John swung himself off the counter and checked. “Yeah, okay.” He waved his hand at Danny. “Follow the instructions on the seasoning packet.”

“You trust me to read the directions? Wow.”

“Shut up,” John laughed. He limped into the living room and sat down.

“Elevate your foot!” Danny yelled immediately.

Alex moved a kitchen chair in place and John did as he was told.

“Sounds like everybody’s making sure you’re doing what you’re supposed to do,” Alex said.

“Gil gave them all instructions,” John muttered resentfully.

“You should be grateful.”

“You too?”

“Of course. I want you to get well, you know.”

John leaned back against the couch cushions and muttered, “I get tired of being told what to do.”

Alex looked at him sideways. John wasn’t smiling. His jaw was tense, and his face had that shuttered look that made Alex uneasy. He moved closer and put his arm around John’s shoulders, pulling him in. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I won’t let them get too close.”

He felt John exhale slowly. “Promise?”

Alex ran his fingers through John’s hair and kissed the top of his head. “I promise.”

He kept playing with John’s hair until he felt him begin to relax.

“Sometimes …” John began, “sometimes it gets …”

“Scary?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not scared of getting shot, though.”

“Fuck, no. Bullets are easy to understand. It’s people – when there are too many people.”

“It’s people who love you.”

“I know that. I wish that made everything different, but it doesn’t.”

Alex rubbed the tight muscles in the back of his neck. “Do you know how much better it is than it was a year ago, though?”

That finally got a smile. “Yeah. It’s a lot better. I think right now, it’s just … “

“What?”

John finally turned and looked at him, his eyes as dark green as deep water. “I know I couldn’t run away.”

Of course. With his broken leg not yet healed, John couldn’t run or climb or jump, and it made him feel trapped. Alex didn’t understand all the reasons why John needed a clear escape route, but he did, and right now, there was no way to have one. Alex resolved to keep people from nagging him, from getting in his face, even with good intentions. He’d talk to Gil. Gil would help. John snuggled closer, more relaxed now, and ignored Danny when he came into the living room with a progress report.

“It’s simmering,” he announced just as Tim and Eliza walked in.

Eliza dropped her bags on the floor and went straight to Alex and threw her arms around him. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

Alex kissed her. “Me, too, babe. It’s good to be back.” Eliza leaned over to kiss John, and before she had a chance to ask him anything, Alex said enthusiastically, “Danny’s making tacos for dinner.”

“Danny is?” Tim asked, his eyebrows up.

“John may have supervised,” Danny admitted, and they laughed.

Eliza picked up her shopping and went to put it away, and Danny followed her into the kitchen, while Tim took a seat in the living room.

“News from Headquarters?” Tim asked.

Alex blew out a breath. “So much news. I need to get everybody together as soon as possible.” He thought for a minute. “Eliza, when’s Angelica getting back from Albany?”

Eliza leaned over the counter to answer. “Thursday, so I can go up for the weekend.”

“Are you leaving Friday morning?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, so Thursday night would work. Can you let her know, and I’ll get in touch with Herc and Gil.”

“Sure. What are we going to be meeting about?”

“A ton of stuff the General talked to us about – I’d rather not go over it all now and then have to do it all again on Thursday.”

“Okay, that’s reasonable. Everything’s all right, though, isn’t it?”

“Sure.” That was a lie. What was left of the Insurrection was disintegrating in small clashes here and there. Thousands had died, whole blocks of cities and fields of farms had burned, and, in the end, nothing had changed. If anything, the Greaters had an even tighter hold on the country, harassing everyone they could as often as they could. It was only a matter of time before those who were active in the Movement would have to go into hiding.

Danny carried a large tray in from the kitchen. “Here you go, folks, beef tacos with all the fixings. The vegetarians will have to eat plain cheese tacos, though.”

“Vegetarians?” Alex asked.

“Joke,” Danny told him. “Try to keep up.”

“That kid …” Alex muttered.

John laughed. “He gets you every single time. Seriously, though …” he checked to be sure Danny wasn’t paying attention and leaned closer to Alex. “That kid is so damn smart. He’s been hanging around to keep me company while you’ve been away.”

“What about school?” The public schools didn’t get breaks at the same time as the university.

John shrugged. “He doesn’t go to school every day. He’s read all your books and all Tim’s, and now he’s starting on Eliza’s.”

Alex looked from Danny to Tim and then back to John. “But he can’t just keep cutting school. I mean, maybe he can apply to college early, but … Tim can’t be okay with it.”

“Tim understands that Danny’s educating himself. You should hear Tim quiz him on some of the stuff in his theology books, and Danny knows everything. I don’t understand a word they say. Anyway, Danny will graduate with no problem.”

“How can he? They have rules about attendance.”

John looked at Alex sideways. “He may have figured out a way to hack into the school computer system and mark himself present and fill in his grades.”

Alex’s jaw dropped. “I guess he’s getting straight A’s.”

“No, he’s being completely honest about it – well, except for the hacking itself, I mean. He gets A’s in history and English classes, but he only got a B in Spanish. I’m helping him work on it.”

Alex looked at Danny setting everything out on the table and shook his head. “I’m glad he’s on our side.”

“Come eat,” Eliza told them, and Alex walked with John, just in case he needed someone to lean on. He didn’t, and he shot Alex a grateful smile for not fussing.

After dinner, Alex found a minute to talk to Tim privately. “Have you got some free time tomorrow for me to come talk to you?”

“I’m going to see Fran Manning tomorrow, remember?” Tim responded.

“Sorry, I knew it was soon, but I forgot when. How about Thursday, then?”

“Sure.” Tim looked concerned “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine. The General has some questions that you might be able to answer.”

“Okay, I don’t understand that, but how about Thursday at three?”

“That’s good. I’ll see you then.”

After Tim and Danny left, Alex and Eliza sat on the couch with John, the three of them snuggled together.

“The best thing about a broken leg is getting to be in the middle,” John said, as Alex kissed his neck and Eliza slid her hand under his shirt and ran her fingernails down his chest.

“It would be easier in bed,” Alex suggested.

“Do I still get to be in the middle?”

Eliza kissed him. “Of course you do. Just remember, though, that when your leg is better, we go back to taking turns.”

*          *          *          *          *

“Fifteen minutes,” Tim said angrily, “and, believe me, they timed it to the second.” He rubbed his forehead.

“How was she?” Alex asked.

“Terrified, I think. That place is so hideous that it would frighten anybody.” Fran was being held in a detention center in an industrial area of Elizabeth, New Jersey, across the Hudson from Manhattan. It was a huge, ugly block building surrounded by concrete pavement and a twenty-foot fence topped with razor wire.

Tim pushed his glasses up and ran his hand over his forehead. “She kept looking at the guard every time she spoke, and, even, then, she only said a few words. At least she looks like she’s getting enough food.”

“So, no bruises or anything that you saw?”

“No,” Tim told him. “The damage they’re doing is psychological, not physical.”

“Fuck them all,” Alex snapped. He took a breath. “Did she ask about Patty?”

Tim shook his head. “She couldn’t, you know. She knew that if I admitted I knew anything about Patty, they’d arrest me right there.”

“It must be awful for her, not knowing.”

“I … gave her a message,” Tim said hesitantly. “I just hope she understood.”

“What do you mean?”

Tim scribbled some words on a piece of paper and turned it so Alex could read it. “You know I was allowed to take her a Bible, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I gave her the Bible with this list of verses. I told her that she should read each of these verses because they would comfort her …”

“One verse each from Luke, Exodus, Psalms, and 1 Samuel?” Alex asked. “That’s an odd assortment, to say the least.”

“I told her to be sure to read them in that order so that she would get the message of comfort that God wanted to send her,” Tim said. “I’m not sure that was the exact truth, but I’m hoping God will understand.” Tim pushed a Bible toward Alex. “If you read each of those verses in this Bible, you’ll see that a few words in each are underlined. Read the underlined words in the right order, and tell me if you understand the message.”

“You’re going to make me look it up for myself, aren’t you?” Alex grumbled.

“Of course.”

“Fine … Luke 10:38 … here it is.” Alex looked closely to see the faint underlining. “… _a woman named Martha._ ” He frowned. “What the … oh, my God! That’s Patty’s real name.”

Tim nodded as Alex flipped through the Bible to find the rest of the verses.

“Exodus 2:22, _in a foreign land_ … oh, my God, Tim, you’re a genius. Psalm 26:12, _a good place_ , yes, it is, and then 1Samuel 23:17, _Don’t be afraid_.” Alex blinked away a couple of tears and re-read the complete message. “ _A woman named Martha in a foreign land, a good place. Don’t be afraid_. You told Fran that we got Patty out of the country into a safe place.”

“I hope she understood. I had to be careful not to make the underlining too dark. I think she knew I was trying to tell her something, though, because I kept saying to be sure to read the verses in the right order, and the verses were obviously unconnected to each other.”

“I think that even if she didn’t catch on right away, as soon as she saw the mention of Martha, she’d pay very close attention.”

“That’s what I’m hoping,” Tim said. “It’s not much, but maybe it will help a little. I tried to get information – she’s been there for months under the ridiculous charge of ‘suspicion of sedition’. Apparently, we can now be arrested for being suspected of a crime, even if there’s no evidence.”

“They wouldn’t tell you anything?”

“No, I’m her spiritual advisor, not her lawyer, so I’m not entitled to any information.”

“Who’s her lawyer?”

“I don’t know. Neither does she.”

“What?”

“I asked her, and she said she’d been told a lawyer had been assigned to her case, but she hasn’t met with him or her yet.”

“That’s ridiculous. They wouldn’t even give you the lawyer’s name?”

“No, because I’m not her lawyer. Can you believe that’s what they told me? I felt like I was banging my head against a wall.”

Alex reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “You told her Patty is safe, Tim. That has to mean a lot.”

Tim gave him a lopsided smile. “I hope so. I wish I could do more.”

“Actually,” Alex said, “that’s what I want to talk to you about.” He went on to explain what General Akhdir had discussed with him.

Tim was astonished. He got up and walked around the room a few times. “Wow. I never … what did you say? Moral leader?” He stopped and looked at Alex. “You’ve been giving me too much credit.”

“I really haven’t,” Alex told him.

Tim filled the kettle and turned it on, keeping his hands busy while he thought, then he turned back to Alex. “I can’t, you know. Danny …”

Alex nodded. “That’s what I told him. Another year and a half, at least.”

“It’s going to go on longer than that, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, quite a bit longer. Ben and I talked about that.”

“How is Ben?” Tim asked, not quite changing the subject.

“He’s okay. I’d like to say he’s fine, but I don’t think anybody at Headquarters is fine, really.”

“That makes sense.” Tim poured the boiling water into the mugs. “So much responsibility. It’s a heavy burden to carry.”

“Yeah.” Alex understood that. Some days his share of responsibility felt like too much. How much worse it must be for the General and his staff.

“Well, can you let him know I’m interested? I can’t do it now, but I’m definitely interested.”

“Sure.”

Tim handed Alex a mug and took a sip of his own scalding tea. “It’s not enough to take care of soldiers’ bodies,” he said. “Despair can take a man down as easily as a bullet can.”

*          *          *          *          *

Angelica was back from Albany, and the Inner Circle was gathered at John’s apartment eating pizza. John was still limping around with his brace, but the physical therapist had told him he could do without it for a couple of hours each day starting in a week, and he felt like he was finally making some progress.

As they finished the pizza, Alex got everybody’s attention. “I’ve got a ton of things to go over with you,” he said. “We have to make some plans.”

It wasn’t easy for anyone to hear that the Insurrection was sputtering to a close without having accomplished much. “The good thing is, though,” Alex told them, “that we made our voices heard, and we made things hard for King. That’s what we’ll do again, when we regroup and strengthen our forces.”

“Are you sure we’ll do that?” Herc asked.

“Absolutely. King’s government will get worse, not better, so more and more people will turn to us. Our job now is to be sure the framework is in place for when that happens.”

“Explain what you mean by _underground_ ,” Gil requested. “Where are these safe houses that you refer to?”

“We don’t know. When we need one, they’ll tell us. I’m guessing they’d be fairly isolated, more because of the preparations we’ve been told to make than anything else. Starting now, each of our cars has to be stocked with cases of bottled water and non-perishable food.” He handed John the paperwork that Amy Simmons had given him. “This is the food they’re recommending.”

John looked it over and smiled. “Well, this is easy – rice and beans, some canned fruit and vegetables, oatmeal. Yeah, it makes sense. So we’re supposed to store all this in the cars, too?”

Alex nodded. “At least enough for a few weeks. Understand, it’s all worst-case-scenario. The fact is, if we do have to go undercover, we may well get some warning. I think they’re just skittish because TJ’s squad got hacked and had no escape plan. They’re lucky they didn’t all get killed.”

“All right,” Angelica said, “food, water, what else?”

“Guns and ammunition. Right now, most of our weapons are in Betsy’s van in Carter Braxton’s garage. Obviously, that’s no good long-term.”

“Wait a minute,” Danny interrupted. “The van has all that concealed storage, right? Can we get that for all the cars?”

Alex looked at John. “What do you think? We hid some guns in your car when we went to Louisiana.”

“Yeah, but I just did a bush-league job. I bet Crazy Tony could do it, though. He’s the one who customized Betsy’s van.”

“Okay, maybe we can take the cars down to him one at a time and have him put false bottoms in the trunks or whatever he can to give us some weapons storage.”

“We should do that immediately,” Gil said, “so that we can distribute the weapons instead of having them all in one place.”

“Good point.”

“We should get Betsy’s van painted,” Herc suggested. “We can’t take it out of the garage now because of the logo, but if it were just painted white, we could use it.”

“What about the title on that?” Alex asked.

“We went through Betsy’s papers while you were away,” Eliza told him. “There wasn’t much, and she’d left everything to Patty. Technically, the van is Patty’s, but there’s no way she can get it, so I don’t know what that means legally, but I can’t imagine that Patty would mind if we used it.”

Alex thought for a minute. “John, could you make a new title for the van, put it in the name of one of our IDs, Sean Burns or James Hawthorne?”

“Sure. You know what else? You can buy big sheets of plastic that are kind of like cling-film for vehicles. People use them for things like elections, where they don’t want to have _Vote for Joe Smith_ painted on their cars, so they get it reverse-painted on the plastic and stick it on the cars. It’s not real durable, but suppose we needed a surveillance vehicle – if the van is painted solid white, I can make something like _Mack’s Heating and Cooling_ with a logo of some kind and a fake phone number, and we can park the van wherever we want for a whole day because nobody would think there was anything strange about repairmen working in the same place for a day.”

Alex stared at him. “That is really smart. We could put anything we wanted on the van depending on the situation.”

“Right. I should stock up on the plastic sheets now, though, before they disappear from the art supply websites. They’re not that expensive, so I’ll get a lot.”

“I’ll talk to Carter,” Herc said. “He’s bound to know somebody who will repaint the van and keep their mouth shut.”

“One more thing,” Alex continued. “John’s going to be sure you each have at least one complete set of ID papers. That will be a driver’s license, insurance card, student ID, whatever you would logically have. You’ll keep that in a safe accessible place at all times, but it will have to travel with you. If we have to move fast, you won’t have time to go home for it.”

There was a silence, and then Tim said, “This is all pretty chilling, you know.”

Alex nodded. “Yeah, I do know – and maybe we’ll never need all the emergency preparations, but I don’t want us to get caught by surprise and not be ready.”

They worked out assignments: John would get the additional documents printed, with help from Danny. Eliza would buy the cases of water and the quantities of non-perishable food. Alex called Tony on a secure phone, but he was still careful, talking about having the cars detailed. Tony said he was sure he could help, and they should bring down one car at a time and leave it for a few days. Gil and Angelica would relay the cars down to Philly to get them all outfitted. As soon as that was done, they’d transfer the weapons into the cars and Herc would handle getting the van painted.

Gil and Herc left, and Angelica and Eliza were having what looked like a fractious discussion that Alex didn’t want to get pulled into, so he was grateful when his phone chimed. He had a text from Rob Townsend: _On my way. Have something to show you._

It was unusual for Rob to come to the apartment. Alex showed the message to John – and to Danny, who was hanging over John’s shoulder.

“What do you think he has?”

“No idea,” Alex shrugged, just as Angelica left, closing the door quite a lot harder than was necessary.

Alex looked anxiously at Eliza, who gave him a sort of resigned smile. John turned and held out his hand to her, and they sat down on the couch. Eliza put her head on John’s shoulder, and he began stroking her hair. It was strange, but Alex felt relieved. John and Eliza were there for each other when he had to deal with something else.

“Does Rob report to you regularly?” Tim asked

“No, I don’t hear from him unless there’s something specific he has to tell me. He was at Betsy’s the night of the bombing, but he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. If he had, he would have told me before now, I’m sure.”

It was only a few minutes before Rob arrived. He looked surprised to see so many people.

“Don’t worry about it,” Alex told him. “Everybody here can know whatever it is you’ve found out.”

“The thing is,” Rob said, “I don’t know if I’ve found out anything. It just occurred to me that you guys might have some photo editing software or something that would help.”

“That’s John’s department. What have you got?”

Rob took out his phone. “Remember the night of the bombing I told you I would take some pictures of the people outside just in case anybody unexpected showed up?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’ve looked at the pictures a few times, but honestly, they’re just not very good. Everybody was sort of milling around, and I wasn’t about to ask them to smile for the camera. But a little while ago, I was looking at them again, and I thought, maybe if they could be enhanced digitally, we could see something. I’m sorry, I should have thought of it sooner, but I’m not much of a photographer.”

“Let me take a look,” John said, and Rob handed him the phone.

“How’s your leg?”

“Getting better.” John swiped through the pictures. “I can probably do something with these.”

“I’ll help,” Danny volunteered.

“Of course you will,” John responded, rolling his eyes. He turned to Rob. “Give us a little while.” He and Danny took the phone into the studio.

Eliza went into the kitchen to make tea, and Alex followed her. “Everything okay with you and Angelica?”

Eliza shrugged. “She wanted me to come back to the dorm for tonight, but that’s ridiculous. I’m leaving early in the morning, so we wouldn’t even see each other. I’ve already told her I’m not moving in here full time.”

“You’re not?” Alex couldn’t hide his disappointment.

“Not yet, Alex. I love you and I love John, but I love my sister too. She’s been more accepting of this than I thought she would be, so I need to try to be understanding for her too.”

Alex kissed her. “You’re a saint, Eliza.”

“No, but I’m trying to consider her feelings. I promise I’ll sleep over sometimes, though.”

Alex kissed her again. “I like that.”

Eliza smiled. “I think Rob is confused. You should go talk to him.”

Rob was, in fact, staring with a bewildered look on his face. Alex left Eliza to finish making the tea and said to Rob, “I guess I didn’t tell you that John and I are with Eliza now.”

Rob blinked. “Uh … no. So … what is that exactly?”

“It’s whatever you want to call it, but John and Eliza and I are all in a relationship with each other.”

Rob nodded. “Okay.” He took a long breath and then laughed. “Hey, listen, I just figured out two weeks ago that the cousin I’ve known all my life is gay, so I’m not real good at reading people.”

“No problem. I don’t see why everybody thinks there’s only one correct way to be in love, but we’re happy together, so we’re going to stay together.”

“Good for you,” Rob told him. “The world needs all the love it can get.”

Alex, Eliza, Rob, and Tim sat around the table drinking tea and trying to be patient. Alex knew better than to ask John how things were going. It was nearly an hour before they got any information. When John and Danny finally came out of the studio, everyone looked up expectantly. John was carrying his laptop, and his face was grim. Danny pulled two more chairs up to the table and they sat down.

“Okay,” John said, “I’m not going to explain how the software works, but in short, it enhances the clarity of photographs, sometimes just a little, sometimes a lot. It’s never as good as what they do on _NCIS_ , but it can really help.” He opened the laptop. “First, these pictures are time-stamped. The time doesn’t show up on the picture itself, but I can tell you when they were taken. Alex, what time did the bomb go off?”

“About ten after four.”

"And about how long did it take to clear the place – not to clear the debris, but to send everybody who could walk away?”

Alex thought hard. It had seemed like hours, but it could only have been minutes or even seconds before Danny cut the power, and Marty helped Johnny over the pile of debris. “Couldn’t possibly have been more than half an hour.”

John nodded. “And Rob didn’t get there right away.”

“It was probably at least an hour after the explosion before I even heard about it,” Rob confirmed.

“That makes sense,” John said, “because the first picture here is time-stamped five-thirty-eight. The last one is ten-sixteen, so they were all taken within a little less than five hours.”

“That sounds right,” Rob nodded. “By then the crowd had really thinned out, and no new people were arriving.”

“I’ve got two pictures here I want you to see,” John continued. “One was taken at six-fifty, and the other at six-twenty-two. Think about what was going on at that point.”

“We were trying to dig Deb out, obviously,” Alex said.

“Who?”

“You, me, Gil, Herc, Johan, Jacob, Danny, Eliza … Tim and Angelica were there by then, but I don’t think Joe or Nate was …”

John nodded. “So to any observer who came along, it was pretty clear that we had survived, even if some others might not have.”

“Oh, I see what you mean. If you and I were the targets, or even you and I and Gil and Danny, yeah, it was very clear that we were all okay.”

“Somebody came by to check,” John said, “somebody who shouldn’t have been in that crowd. He did his best to keep his head down, but Rob took pictures from a lot of different angles, and you can see him especially clearly in these two.” He clicked on the laptop and pointed. “Right there in the gray hoodie, looking away from the front of Betsy’s, but not realizing Rob was taking pictures from across the street.” He turned the screen to face Alex.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Alex muttered, “how brazen can you get? Mark Willet without a bruise or a bandage on him. Son of a bitch.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Fran Manning spend her life in jail even without being charged with a crime?  
> The Insurrection is ending and the Movement lost. Soon, they'll have to go undercover. Then what?  
> Alex now has proof that Mark lied about where he was the night of the bombing. What will he do about it?  
> Thanks for your patience waiting for this update. My conference was really good, but there was zero free time, so I didn't write at all until I got home. Now most of the craziness of the last couple of months is done, so I hope to be back writing on a more regular schedule. Hopefully, there won't be too long a wait before the next chapter.  
> Thanks for the kudos and comments, and I hope you like this chapter.


	70. Vengeance and Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one likes Alex's plan. Peggy asks questions. John makes a phone call. A lot of lies are told.

“Call Gil,” Danny said. “He’ll take him out tomorrow.”

Alex waved his hand. “Hang on, hang on.”

“Why?” John demanded. “You want to give him another chance?”

“Of course not. Just listen, would you?” Alex rubbed his forehead and pushed back his hair. It was almost to his shoulders now, and most of the time he pulled it back in a ponytail, but tonight it was hanging in his face. “We’ve got the picture, and yeah, that proves he wasn’t at the clinic after being mugged, but are we sure that proves he placed the bomb?”

“Why else would he lie about it?” Eliza asked.

“I don’t know, but at least let’s think about it. And just, everybody, keep it here for now. You know if Gil sees this picture, no one can stop him.”

“Fuck that shit,” John snapped. “I’m not keeping anything from Gil.”

“Maybe I should leave now,” Rob said uneasily, understanding only about half of what was going on and not liking what he was hearing.

Alex nodded. “Yeah, sorry, but you probably should.”

Danny handed Rob his phone and he left without further conversation.

“You sure you can trust him?” Tim asked after Rob closed the door.

“Hell, Rev, I’m not even sure I can trust my own eyes and ears,” Alex responded. “That’s the problem. I trusted Mark. I still don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t have trusted him. There weren’t any signs. That’s why now I want to be absolutely one hundred per cent sure we’re right before we go for him because if we’re wrong, there’s no recourse after he’s dead.”

“Well, not to contradict you,” Eliza said, “but there was something off about Mark. The way he pushed himself at Patty.”

“Okay, but that means he was bad at relationships. I can’t see how it was a clue that he was a traitor and a murderer.”

Eliza frowned, trying to clarify her thoughts. “Maybe it’s not something a guy would pick up on, but I’ll bet Angelica and Deb felt the same way.”

“Really?”

Eliza rolled her eyes, and Tim intervened. “Eliza, are you saying Mark didn’t seem respectful of other people?”

“Thank you, Tim, that’s exactly what I’m trying to say. It was particularly true about Patty. He didn’t respect her boundaries – nothing awful happened, but he kept trying to get too close. There was more, though. When we talked about the Movement, about what our goals are, he was always a little flippant.”

John leaned forward, still angry, but nodding to confirm what Eliza was saying. “Yeah, we don’t joke about the Movement ever, but Mark wasn’t – wasn’t as serious as the rest of us.”

“He doesn’t like Alex, either,” Danny put in unexpectedly.

Alex swiveled toward him. “What?”

“Oh, we all complain about you, Alex, you know that. There’s not a person here who hasn’t told you you’re a pain in the ass.” He stopped and looked around. “Okay, maybe not Tim, but everybody else, right?”

Alex was glaring at him, but he said, “Yeah, you’re right, and Tim has said … well, words to the same effect.”

“But every single one of us knows you’re the best leader and the smartest guy we could have in your position. Every one of us completely respects and … well, I hate to say it, loves you. In a totally brotherly way, of course,” he added hastily.

“Of course,” Alex agreed drily. “But not Mark?”

Danny shook his head. “Not in the same way. It was more like he had to do what you said than that he really trusted your judgment.” He looked at John and Eliza. “Did anybody else pick up on that, or was I imagining things?”

“He was really mad when you wouldn’t tell him where Patty is, but mad at you, not at the situation,” John said thoughtfully. “He questioned the whole need-to-know policy, which anybody with half a brain can see protects the Movement.”

Tim put his hand on Alex’s arm. “You know, what I’m hearing is that there were a lot of very small things, so small that nobody ever thought to mention them, but that added together could be significant. The whole picture looks like one of disloyalty.”

Alex nodded. “Yeah. No one thing was enough to report, but the pattern is there.” He sighed and closed his eyes for a few seconds. “I don’t like this part of the job.”

“You going to call Gil?” Tim asked. He knew better than anyone what the decision would cost Alex.

“Not yet. I’m going to face him and give him a chance to defend himself.”

“Are you crazy?” Eliza asked at the exact same time that John yelled, “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Maybe I am, but I can’t do it any other way.”

Eliza and John kept talking, but Danny grabbed Alex’s arm and looked him in the eye. “I’m going with you,” he declared.

Alex nodded, his face expressionless. “All right.”

*          *          *          *          *

Eliza almost changed her plans to go to Albany, but John persuaded her that he’d manage everything. They had a few minutes to talk while Alex was in the shower, and he held her hand tightly. “You don’t want your parents to start worrying, do you? Just go. You’ll be back Sunday, and Alex needs time to make a plan. Nothing will happen before then.”

“Promise you’ll text me if anything changes.”

“Of course I will – and Tim’s going to try to talk some sense into Alex. There’s at least a chance he might listen.”

She nodded, biting her lip. “John – you could call Gil.”

John pulled her closer and kissed her forehead. “I will if I have to, sweetheart, but only if I have to.”

“I know.” She put her arms around his neck and kissed him, her hands tangled in his curls. “I love you so much.”

“I love you.”

“Are you two making out without me?” Alex asked as he walked into the room.

John looked at him from under his lashes. “Maybe, but you’re welcome to join in.”

“I have a train to catch,” Eliza reminded them.

Alex sat down on the couch next to her and began to kiss her neck. “We’ll miss you so much, baby girl.”

On her other side, John caught her earlobe in his teeth and then sucked on it, and she took a deep breath. “Train. I’ll be back on Sunday.”

John began whispering in her ear, and, half-laughing, she told him, “Stop, stop, stop, stop, _stop!”_ She pulled away and stood up, keeping her distance from both of them.

“What are you doing over there, _querido?_ ” Alex asked curiously.

“Just telling her what I want to do on Sunday.”

“Oh, tell me about it when I get back from the station. Maybe we can practice.”

“Good idea.”

“Great idea,” Eliza agreed. “Then when I get back, you can show me. Come on, Alex, if you’re not going to take me to the station, I need to get a taxi.”

“Of course I’m taking you. John, you’ll be okay for half an hour or so, right?”

“I’ll be fine, and if you think you’re going to get to Penn Station and back in half an hour, you’re crazy.”

Alex shrugged. “Okay, more like an hour. You sure you’ll be all right alone?”

“ _Yes_. I can take the brace off for an hour now, remember?”

“Just be careful,” Alex added as Eliza dragged him out the door.

John loved them both, but he didn’t mind having a little time alone. Everybody had been hovering over him so much that he needed a break. A while back, he’d gotten used to being alone, had convinced himself that he liked it. It had been a big adjustment to learn to have friends, and then to have people who loved him. There were still days when he woke up to a flash of disappointment, thinking that he had dreamed Alex’s arm around him or Eliza snuggled up to his side. He leaned back on the couch, thinking about things. After a while, he picked up his phone.

*          *          *          *          *

Catherine and Philip had lots of questions about how John was recovering from his “skateboard accident,” and Eliza told them as much of the truth as she could. She still felt guilty lying to her parents, but she knew it was the safest thing to do. Peggy confided in her about her boyfriend.

“Cilla Pendleton’s little brother?” Eliza asked.

“Yeah, do you know him?”

“Well, only as Cilla’s little brother. I might have seen him two or three times.”

“He’s cute, right?”

Eliza raised her eyebrow. “Does he still have the braces?”

“No. He has a very nice smile.”

“Well, other than cute, what do you like about him?”

Peggy had to stop and think about that. “Um … he’s nice.”

“Okay,” Eliza said encouragingly, “and what else?”

“Isn’t cute and nice enough?”

“Maybe … I’ll see him this summer, right?”

“Of course.”

“Well, then I’ll tell you if cute and nice is enough.”

Peggy rolled her eyes. “And I thought Angelica would be the one who would go all protective.”

“Oh, she will,” Eliza agreed, “but you’re my little sister too. What did Angelica say when you told her about Steve?”

“Not a lot, really,” Peggy responded, frowning. “She seemed really distracted the whole time she was here. Is something going on at school that you don’t want Mom and Dad to know about?”

“Of course not,” Eliza lied. “Maybe she was just upset about John getting hurt.”

Peggy looked at her skeptically. “If you say so.”

Eliza was saved from more lying by Philip calling them to dinner, but she’d have to talk to Angelica. Peggy was asking too many questions that she didn’t have answers for.

*          *          *          *          *

“It’s your decision, Alex,” Tim said.

“Aren’t you the guy who’s supposed to know right from wrong?” Alex asked irritably.

“If only it were that simple. Tell me again why you think you need to talk to Mark.”

Alex sighed and went back over what he had already said. “First, because there’s a very slight chance that we could be wrong. Maybe there’s an entirely different reason why he made up the story about the mugging. On TV shows, bad alibis are always because the guy is sleeping with somebody else’s wife.”

“Okay, unlikely, I grant you, but possible. What else?”

“I want to know why. If he did it, and I’m just about positive that he did, why? Why would he betray us?”

Tim sat back in his chair. “Has it occurred to you that he might see the Movement as a group of traitors? I mean, we are planning to overthrow the lawful government.”

Alex raised his eyebrows. “I’m glad you included yourself in that, but King’s government is not lawful.”

“In your opinion.”

“In my well-informed judgment based on the Constitution and the corruption thereof …”

Tim interrupted him. “See how ready you are to defend your point of view? There are people just as ready to defend King. Mark may be one of them.”

“Anybody who defends King is a moron.”

Tim waited silently.

Alex shrugged. “Okay, I get it. It’s just hard for me to see how any person could respect King.”

Tim nodded. “Me too, but the fact that we don’t understand it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”

“What is that, some fancy philosophical shit?”

“Yeah.”

Alex smiled reluctantly. “I have a really hard time dealing with people who are smarter than I am.”

“That’s a pretty small group, and I’m not sure I’m in it, but I’ll do what I can to make you think.”

“You do, Rev. that’s why I’m here.”

“What’s next?”

“I call Mark, tell him about the photos, see if he’ll meet with me.”

“He might just run, you know.”

“I know.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Dammit, Rev …” Alex rubbed his forehead, shielding his eyes. “I don’t know. The General said that if we have proof, we kill him. I understand that. He’s responsible for the deaths of at least three people, two of them friends of mine, and who knows what else? A kill order is routine for that. I should just do it.”

“Gil would do it without blinking. So would John – or Danny.”

Alex shook his head stubbornly. “It’s my squad. I let Mark in. It’s my responsibility.”

“Ah, that’s what it is.”

“What?”

“You need to talk to him to understand his motivation. You need to learn where it went wrong. It’s about you becoming a better leader.”

Alex chewed on his lip, thinking. “Yeah, maybe it is.”

*          *          *          *          *

Alex called Mark, told him there were pictures, told him he wanted to talk. Mark didn’t try to deny anything. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll talk.”

“Where?”

“The alley behind Betsy’s, Tuesday night. Late, after dark.”

“Why?”

“I might be avoiding some people.”

Of course. The bomb hadn’t killed the targets. The Movement wasn’t the only organization unhappy with Mark Willet.

“All right,” Alex agreed.

“I’ll talk to you, nobody else. Come alone.”

“All right,” Alex said again.

“No guns. I’ll be unarmed too.”

Alex knew that was a lie. “All right,” he said for the third time, lying.

*          *          *          *          *

The street lights in the alley had long been broken, and nobody was going to fix them. What little light there was came through the ruins of Betsy’s. The doors were off some of the garages, and all of them were pitch dark. Alex and Danny advanced slowly, guns drawn, quartering the alley.

Mark came from behind them, from the narrow space between the broken back wall and the next building. Before Alex had a chance to move, he had Danny’s arm twisted behind him and his own Glock against Danny’s temple. Danny’s gun fell uselessly to the ground, and Mark kicked it away. “Drop your gun, Alex,” he said.

“Fuck you,” Alex retorted.

“Don’t do it,” Danny told him.

“Just drop the gun,” Mark said. “I only want to talk. You said you’d come alone.”

“You said you’d be unarmed.”

“I guess you can’t trust anybody these days.”

“Let Danny go.”

Mark shook his head. “You know I can’t do that. Don’t waste time.”

Alex’s gun was pointed at Mark’s forehead, but Danny was in front of him.

“Take the shot, Alex,” Danny said, looking straight at him.

“I’ll give you until three,” Mark continued. “One …”

“I’ll kill you,” Alex said through his teeth.

Mark shrugged. “Maybe, but I’ll kill Danny. You’d hate to have that on your conscience, wouldn’t you? Being responsible for Danny’s death …Two…”

“Take the fucking shot!” Danny yelled.

Alex threw his gun on the ground.

“God damn you, Alex,” Danny snapped, furious.

Mark smiled. “I knew you wouldn’t shoot me.”

Alex could barely keep himself from shaking. _Distract him. Get his attention elsewhere. Give Danny a chance to use one of those moves John had taught him._ “Really?” he queried, his voice deceptively calm. “How did you know that?”

“You’ll always put the man before the Mission,” Mark said. “That’s your weakness. You and John and Angelica, all of you. You’ll risk your own lives without question, but you won’t risk each other’s.”

“Yeah, whatever.” _Was that true? Maybe. But it wasn’t a weakness._

Danny kicked backward, hard, hitting Mark’s shin with his heel. Mark slammed the barrel of the Glock into Danny’s forehead, drawing an anguished gasp but no words. Blood trickled down Danny’s face.

“Don’t be stupid, kid,” Mark said. “I’ve had some training too.”

“From where?” Alex asked. _Make him talk about himself._

“What, you think Commissioner Howe just called me up one day and offered me a job?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”

Mark tightened his grip on Danny, making sure he couldn’t get away. The muzzle of the Glock was still pressed against his temple. Blood dripped off Danny’s jaw onto his shirt, making dark splotches on the gray.

“I needed a job,” Mark said.

“You had a job,” Alex told him.

Mark snorted impatiently. “I needed a job that paid more than minimum wage.”

Alex let it slide. “Fine, you needed a job. So?”

“So I heard some things. I heard that there were, let’s say, job openings in the Department of Public Safety.”

“What kind of jobs?”

Mark was silent for a minute. “Patriotic jobs.”

“Bullshit.”

“Fuck you, Alex, you don’t know everything. You think your definition of _patriotic_ is the only correct one?”

“Damn straight.”

“God, they’re right about you.”

“Who?”

“Some people I know.”

 _He’s taunting me deliberately. Why? Is he waiting for something? Is he looking for an excuse to shoot Danny? What does he want?_ “So tell me about your job.”

“I showed them that I had information. They gave me money.”

Alex stared at him, trying to understand the mentality that sees everything in terms of commodities. “Payment for services rendered?”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“So you told them Betsy’s van would be headed to Philadelphia last summer? Was that your first … um … job?”

“Yeah, but those hick cops went way overboard. They were just supposed to stop them and search the van, not arrest them.”

“Oh, right, so it’s all okay then.” Alex was holding onto his temper with all his might.

Mark shrugged. “Nobody got hurt.”

Alex thought of Patty curled up in a fetal position, whimpering, lying on the bunk in the jail cell, and he took a step forward, his fists clenched.

Mark reacted instantly, never losing his grip on Danny, and fired into the pavement six inches from Alex’s foot. Before Alex could react, the gun was back at Danny’s head.

“Don’t do that again,” Mark ordered, his breath coming a little fast.

Alex stepped back, but slowly. His heart was pounding, and he was very much aware that Mark could just as easily have fired the bullet into Danny’s head. He held out his hands, palms up. “All right, enough. What do you want?”

“Money, of course.”

The simple answer took Alex by surprise. “ _Money?_ That’s it?”

Mark looked at him steadily. “That’s all it’s ever been. Well, maybe not all, but mostly.”

“I don’t have any money.”

“You can get it. John’s got money.”

“Then why didn’t you talk to him?”

“Because they all do what you say. John, Gil, Patty, all of them. Everybody does what Alex Hamilton tells them to do.”

“So you think if I tell John to give you money, he will?”

“Yeah.”

“And suppose that happens, then what?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what do you do with it?”

“I leave town, leave the country.”

Alex pretended to consider the idea. “How much do you want?”

“Hundred thousand, at least.”

“Is that all?”

“A hundred thousand is pocket change to John Laurens.”

“And for that you’d promise to leave the country?”

“Yeah, I need to get out of town anyway. Obviously, I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t blown my last assignment.” He shook his head, looking genuinely regretful. “I was so careful to avoid every security camera on the street and Rob Townsend got my picture with his cell phone. I never even saw him.”

“Are you telling me that the Greaters are after you now?”

“Let’s just say I want to go far away.”

“And what do we get for the money?”

“You give me a hundred thousand, and I don’t give them a list of all the names. They don’t confirm that Catherine and Philip Schuyler are in the Movement, along with Herc’s mother and his sister Venus, Joe, Johan, Kat, Rob, Nate, Deb, Johnny, just here in New York. I know some Boston names too, Ethan and Paul, and that girl Patty was friends with, Sybil. I forget her last name, but I wrote it down. I still have information to sell.”

Alex waited for a minute, as if he was thinking it over. “And how do we work this?”

“I take Danny home with me, and when you bring me the money, you get Danny back.” Alex’s heart was beating fast. He looked at Danny, who was staring directly at him, even though his face was covered with blood now. Almost imperceptibly, Danny shook his head. Danny was right. Mark would have no reason to keep Danny alive once he got the money – not that Alex would consider giving in to extortion anyway.

“You hand Danny over to me, and then you leave the country?”

Mark nodded. “That’s the plan.”

“Where are you going?”

“France, I think.”

“France?” Alex asked, his face expressionless.

Mark gave a malicious grin. “Well, she wasn’t in Albany. France is my second guess.”

The shot came from behind Alex and hit Mark in the middle of the forehead, blowing out the back of his head, spattering blood and brains and bone fragments against the brick wall. Danny dropped to his knees as Mark fell.

“Fuck!” Alex gasped, spinning around.

Danny stood up slowly and stared dispassionately at the thing that had been Mark Willet. He turned and looked past Alex into the shadows. “Looks like Gil got himself a silencer.”

Alex was trying to drag air into his lungs with long ragged breaths. Danny wiped his bloody face with the hem of his shirt, and touched his hand to Alex’s shoulder as he walked past. Alex was aware enough to register that Danny’s hand was completely steady. He was so much like John.

“You can come out, Gil,” Danny said calmly. “There’s nobody else here.”

Gil’s teeth gleamed white from the darkness beside the garage. “How did you know it was me?”

“Son of a bitch!” Alex muttered, shoving his hair off his forehead.

Gil had shouldered his gun, and he sauntered into the dim light. He gave Danny an assessing look. “You okay?”

“Fuck, yeah.” Danny jerked his head toward Alex. “Not sure about him, though.”

Gil kicked the gun away from Mark’s dead hand and picked it up. He checked it carefully, emptied it, and then stuck it in his waistband. “Alex is all right,” he said to Danny. “He’s seen worse.”

“So have I,” Danny reminded him.

“And I was worried about him being here tonight,” Alex said, his breathing almost normal. “How did you know?” he asked Gil.

“John told me.”

“John wasn’t supposed to say anything.”

Gil raised an eyebrow. “Alex, it’s me. You think John was going to keep any secrets from me?”

Alex choked off a laugh. “Inner circle.”

“Right.”

“We going to clean that mess up?” Danny asked, gesturing toward Mark’s body.

Gil shook his head slowly. “Don’t need to.”

“Ballistics?”

“Fragmenting bullet. They won’t be able to identify anything.” He turned to Alex. “You ready to go home? John might be a little worried.”

Alex’s smile was twisted. “Did he say that?”

“No. He said you could handle whatever came up.”

“Didn’t you believe him?”

Gil shrugged. “Thought maybe you’d need back-up.”

Alex looked across the alley. “Is that what it was?”

“No, it was me deciding we didn’t need to hear any more shit out of that bastard’s mouth.”

“You were right,” Alex said. “We couldn’t let him go.”

“You think he was really going to try to get to France?” Danny asked.

“Maybe,” Alex responded. “He might have been deluded enough to believe he had a chance with Patty.”

Danny spat in the direction of Mark’s body. “Makes me sick,” he muttered.

“Let’s go,” Gil said. “My car’s up the block.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The real Marinus Willett (note spelling; my mistake) was in fact a good guy. My original outline did not have him as the villain in this story, but the longer I spent with him, the more he irritated me, so there he is. Any Willet descendants out there, please forgive me, and remember that this is fiction.  
> My crazy couple of months are done, and I am back to a normalish writing schedule until something else comes up.  
> Thanks so much to all of you who are still reading. This is (obviously) a very long story, but I do need to get us to the beginning of Provoke Outrage -- not too much longer. It's spring now, and Provoke Outrage starts in October.  
> Thanks for kudos and comments. I always love hearing what you think.


	71. This Is Not a Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gil reminds Alex of Catholic Church lessons. Director Loring makes an announcement about the Movement. Alex arranges a "study group" as a cover. Eliza gets an unexpected visitor. Marty Middicks and Angelica are both missing, but for different reasons.

“I told you not to call Gil,” Alex said.

“Right, you did,” John responded.

“But you called him.”

“Yep.”

Alex wasn’t mad; he just wanted to understand. “Why?”

John held out his glass, and Gil poured some more wine. The four of them were back at the apartment, and Gil had insisted on opening a bottle of Burgundy so they could all have a drink, even Danny.

“It wasn’t a unilateral decision,” John said. “I thought it was the right thing to do, but I ran it past Eliza and Tim and Danny first. They all agreed with me.”

Alex’s eyebrows went up. “Tim did?”

“Yeah. He said that for sure somebody was going to die in that alley, and he wanted the odds to be on your side.”

Alex thought about it. “He was right. I wouldn’t have left Danny with him, no matter what he promised, so he would have killed at least one of us.”

“Probably me,” Danny remarked coolly.

“Probably. He was right, you know, that I didn’t want your death on my hands.”

“Good to know,” Danny nodded, but he was smiling.

“Really, Alexander,” Gil said, sitting back in his chair and looking into his wine glass, “this is a pointless conversation. You told John not to call me – _et Dieu sait pourquoi_ – but, after careful consideration, he did, and now it is over.”

“I wanted to know why Mark did what he did,” Alex responded.

“And do you know now?” Gil asked.

“Yeah. It was money – at least mostly money, but he still seemed to think that he might have a chance with Patty.”

Gil took a sip of wine. _“L’avarice et l’orgueil.”_

“What?”

Gil smiled faintly. “When they made you go to church, did you not learn the seven deadly sins? Two of them are greed and – how would you translate _l’orgueil?_ Pride?”

“Pride, or maybe in this case, ego.”

Gil shrugged. “The same thing. One of the priests told me that every crime comes down to one of those two qualities.”

“Greed and ego,” Alex mused. “I wonder if your priest was right about that.”

“He would have been in this case.”

“What a waste,” Alex said after a while.

“Mark Willet?” John asked skeptically.

Alex shook his head. “No. That poor girl Cassie, and Betsy, and most of all, Nat. The General said Nat had as much leadership potential as anyone he’d ever met. What could Nat have done over the next ten or twenty years, as a leader, as a father?”

All of them had grown up essentially fatherless, even though John had lived in the same house as Henry Laurens.

“I wish Patty could have stayed here,” Danny said softly. “We could have helped her raise the baby.”

*          *          *          *          *

The TV news, which had completely ignored the bombing of Betsy’s, suddenly picked up the story and connected it with the death of Mark Willet. Mark was described as a college dropout with a record of petty offenses, who had become involved with the criminal element of the Movement. The Ken and Barbie anchors didn’t come right out and say that he was responsible for setting off the bomb, but there were plenty of hints. King’s government, in the persons of Police Commissioner William Howe and Director of Public Safety Joshua Loring, let it be known that the Movement was a criminal organization, every bit as dangerous as the Mafia with the added feature of being treasonous.

About a month after Mark’s death, Anchor Ken of the evening news spoke solemnly to the audience. “Commissioner Howe has set up a special task force to deal with the seditionist group who call themselves the Movement. Today Director Loring made this announcement.”

The camera cut to a video of Joshua Loring. “Make no mistake, these seditionists are dangerous and predatory. They will stop at nothing to destroy the rule of law, and they are experts at the psychological manipulation that draws young people into their cult-like environment. Their brutal lifestyle requires that even the smallest disagreement be settled by violence, resulting in constant injuries and many deaths.”

“Oh, turn that shit off,” John yelled.

“No,” Alex said, waving his hand. “I want to hear more about our trials by combat.”

But Loring was drawing his speech to a close, warning law-abiding citizens to avoid association with the Movement at all times, and to report any activity that might indicate seditionist leanings.

“That’s the real message,” Alex said. “They want people to turn us in.”

“Take it seriously,” Angelica told him. “Loring is talking about exactly what Mark did.”

“I know, I know,” Alex responded wearily, “but if we suspect everybody, the Movement will disappear. We need more people. When Mark first came in, near the beginning, we were very open with everyone. It was only later that we learned to tighten up security. Now, any new people coming in will only get the information they need.”

“That’s not always going to be true, though,” Jacob Turck said. “I already know more than I should.”

Alex sighed. It was complicated.

With Betsy’s destroyed, they had to use the apartment as a meeting place. As a cover, they had set up a Thursday night “study group.” Including Danny, Tim, and now Jacob in that required Alex hacking in to Columbia’s network and enrolling them – digitally, at least – in some classes. He put Danny in pre-law, Tim in theology, and, after some discussion, Jacob in architecture, on the off-chance that they might someday be quizzed about what they were “studying.” Danny and Tim could easily talk their way through anything they were asked, but Jacob had never been to college and had graduated high school fifteen years ago. Still, he was smart, and he knew a lot about building structure, so Alex though he’d be able to hold his own.

“You’re a special case,” he said to Jacob. “You walked into a disaster, and we had to give you information on the spot to save lives.”

“It’s what they call exigent circumstances,” Danny volunteered.

“Did you take my Constitutional Principles book again?” Eliza demanded suspiciously.

Danny was the picture of offended innocence. “Do you need it back?”

Eliza kicked him. “Yes.”

“Okay. I finished it anyway.”

“I hate you,” Eliza muttered, kicking him again. “You’ve probably memorized it.”

Danny lazily moved out of the way of her foot. “Nah, only the interesting parts.”

Jacob raised an eyebrow at Alex. “Is he serious?”

“Yeah, he’s our child prodigy,” Alex admitted.

“We keep him grounded, though,” John said. “Can’t have him getting conceited.”

Danny got to his feet. “Fight me?” he challenged.

John stood up, “You’ll have to spot me points, since my leg is still healing.”

Danny turned to Gil. “Does John get points?”

Gil shook his head. “Sorry, John, but you’ve been discharged from physical therapy, and you’re walking around as easily as you were three months ago, so no.”

“Do you guys have to do this?” Alex asked plaintively. Danny was determined to prove that he was better at martial arts than his mentor, but so far, John had won every time he’d been challenged. Alex hated it, partly because he didn’t see any point in fighting for fun, and partly because he really was worried that John might get hurt again.

“It’s only a game,” John said over his shoulder and took Danny down in three moves.

“Dammit!” Danny muttered, face down on the floor with John’s knee on his back.

John was trying not to laugh. “I keep telling you.”

He stood up, and Danny rose to his feet, rubbing his shoulder. “You can’t win forever, John.”

“Okay,” John shrugged.

“Do you think that’s what Loring was talking about?” Herc asked thoughtfully.

Alex frowned at him. “What?”

“Didn’t he just say that in the Movement even small disagreements have to be settled by violence? Didn’t we just have a demonstration of that?”

Alex started to laugh, and then looked at the others. “He couldn’t mean this kind of goofing around, could he? Everybody does this. And anyway, how would he know?”

There was an uneasy silence.

*          *          *          *          *

Eliza was alone in the dorm room. She had a pretty good idea where Angelica was, but it wasn’t something they were talking about openly yet. She had just taken a shower and had her pajamas on and was about to call Alex and John to say goodnight before she went to bed. Maybe it was silly and immature, but they had a phone call every night that she didn’t sleep there. John had been talking about looking for a bigger place because there really wasn’t room for all of Eliza’s stuff in the apartment, but Eliza had told him to hold off. If she moved out of the dorm, she’d have to tell her parents why, and she wasn’t ready to have that conversation yet. For now, it was a compromise in a difficult situation. She wasn’t technically lying to her parents, Angelica wasn’t actually endorsing the relationship, and John and Alex were happy and excited every time she slept there. She sighed, knowing full well that a reckoning would come at some point, but for now it worked.

Before she could make her call, there was a faint knock at the door.  She stood up, not even sure she’d heard it, and it came again. She opened the door and saw Sylvia Johnson.

“Come in,” Eliza said, surprised. Sylvia never dropped by to visit, certainly not at eleven o’clock at night.

Sylvia took the desk chair that Eliza offered her, and Eliza sat down on the bed.

“I probably am not supposed to even ask this,” Sylvia began, her voice a little shaky, “but do you have any idea where Marty might be?”

“No, none at all. Why – what’s going on?”

Sylvia’s face was pale and she had dark shadows under her eyes. “I know Alex got really mad when Marty talked to some of the other people in the Movement, but Marty didn’t mean anything by it, he just didn’t understand.”

Eliza nodded. “Do you want some tea or something?” she asked.

“Yeah, that would be good, thank you.”

Eliza put on the kettle and got out the cups, wondering if she should call Alex. She was positive he wouldn’t know anything about Marty’s whereabouts, but there was a tiny corner of her brain reminding her _What if I didn’t need to know?_

She handed Sylvia a cup of tea and called Alex.

“Hello, baby girl,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

“Um, hi,” she responded. “Listen, Alex, Sylvia’s here, and she doesn’t know where Marty is.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Maybe you could talk to her?”

Alex sighed. “Okay, but I have no idea what she thinks I can do.”

Eliza gave Sylvia the phone and sat listening to her half of the conversation.

“Yesterday afternoon around two. He just said he was meeting somebody, and I thought maybe it was you, because he seemed, you know, kind of excited. He really wanted to help with the Movement, but he knew you were mad at him. He hasn’t called or texted, and his parents haven’t heard from him either.” She paused and listened, frowning. “There’s no point; he hasn’t spoken to him for months. He _wouldn’t_ , Alex, really. He knows better now. I can’t tell you how sorry he was.” Sylvia’s voice was breaking, and there were tears in her eyes. “I don’t know. It was the only thing I could think of.” She handed the phone back to Eliza.

“Hey, we’re coming over,” Alex said. “This is probably nothing, but it could be something, so I don’t want to just wait and see.”

“I’ll make more tea,” Eliza told him. She hoped neither John nor Alex would ask where Angelica was because that was a discussion she didn’t want to have.

They were there in fifteen minutes. Alex took the only other chair, and John sat next to Eliza on the bed, his arm around her. He looked over at Angelica’s neatly made, empty bed and raised his eyebrows questioningly, but Eliza shook her head and murmured, “Not now.”

“Before we go any further,” Alex said to Sylvia, “I want you to at least call Sam Seabury and ask.” He put up his hand as Sylvia started to protest. “You’re probably right, but let’s at least cross that off the list.”

Sylvia’s call obviously woke Sam Seabury up, and they could hear him yelling. Sylvia winced and held the phone a little farther from her ear. “All right, I just wanted to make sure. Do you think Sadie …” More yelling interrupted the question, and then there was a different voice on the other end of the phone. “Okay, thanks. You’ve got my number, right, just in case? Okay, yeah. I’m sorry for waking you guys up.”

“Sam says he hasn’t seen him and hasn’t spoken to him in a couple of months,” Sylvia reported to Alex. “Same with Sadie.”

“How convenient that you found them both at the same location,” Alex commented drily. “Any other friends you can think of?”

Sylvia shook her head. “Not really. A lot of people he used to be friends with kind of dropped him for being with me.”

Eliza leaned forward, outraged. “Sylvia, that’s terrible! No real friend would do that.”

Sylvia’s eyes filled with tears again. “You know I won’t be back here next year, right? My family lost their business, so now we’re officially Deplos, and I’m not going to be able to finish college.”

Eliza looked at Alex, hoping he could contradict this, but he just looked away for a moment, then turned back to Sylvia. “I’m really sorry to hear that,” he said, “and we’ll keep fighting to get King’s laws overturned. What about some of those former friends, though? Has there been any contact? Has Marty said anything?”

“No, and he would have, you know? It bothered him that they were acting like I was beneath him.”

 _“Jesus,”_ John muttered, “what kind of assholes are they?”

Sylvia looked over her shoulder at him with a wan smile. “Mostly his old prep school friends from Auden-James. You know, trust-fund babies.”

John took a breath and vowed never to mention his own trust fund around Sylvia.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Alex said, tapping his fingers on the desk. “Prep school … what about that Greater that he went to prep school with? The one Danny and I saw him talking to? What the hell was his name?”

Sylvia frowned. “There was a Greater that went to Auden-James with Marty? Really? He didn’t tell me.”

“Shit, I can’t remember his name.” Alex stood up and started pacing.

John pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Yeah, hi, sorry to wake you up,” he said, “but we need the name of the Greater that went to prep school with Marty Middicks.” There was a pause. “Okay, do you know how to spell it?” Another pause while John grabbed a pen and paper. “It’s kind of complicated …” He gave Danny a brief summary of what was going on. “Eliza’s dorm room. Yeah, probably for a while. Okay.” He hung up. “Danny’s on his way over.”

“Of course he is,” Alex sighed.

“The Greater’s name is Nick Mattice” John continued, spelling it.

“How the hell did Danny remember it?” Alex demanded, a little defensively.

“He made a note of it as soon as he got home, he said. He does that, you know, keeps records of things. He hacked the alumni page on the Auden-James website to confirm all the facts and get the correct spelling of the name. He says you never know what information you’re going to need.”

“Wait,” Sylvia interrupted, looking confused, “do you think this Nick guy might know where Marty is, or what? I mean, Marty wasn’t hanging around with him.”

“I don’t know,” Alex told her truthfully, “but it’s a loose end. Marty’s been missing for more than twenty-four hours, and he hasn’t been in contact with you or any of his friends. I’m just trying to figure out possibilities. Have you tried the hospitals?”

Sylvia went even paler. “No. Wouldn’t his parents have been notified?”

“If he was, say, mugged and his wallet was stolen, and he was unconscious, they wouldn’t know who to contact. Maybe you should call some of the emergency rooms in the area and see if someone answering Marty’s description has been brought in.”

Eliza got up from the bed and went to sit in the chair Alex had used. “Let’s make a list,” she said, “and we can split up the calls.”

Alex made himself another cup of tea and sat down next to John. “Where do you suppose Angelica is?” he whispered.

John rolled his eyes. “Out?”

“It’s late.”

“Right, Dad, I know.”

“Don’t be such a smartass.” Alex leaned over to kiss him. “You think she’s got a new boyfriend?”

“Seems like that could be a possibility. Now mind your own business.”

Alex nodded, then looked at John sideways. “Sometimes I have a problem with boundaries.”

John choked off a laugh, and told him, “Seriously, shut up. Poor Sylvia is over there about to fall apart, and you’re making jokes. That’s really inappropriate, _querido._ ”

Alex nodded again, biting his lip. “You don’t think there’s any possibility that Marty was meeting up with this Greater to pass information, do you? Maybe to try to get back at me for losing my temper at him?”

“Is that what’s worrying you?” John thought about it for a while. “I don’t think so. Look, Marty’s not the smartest guy around, but he’s not malicious. He’s never been an enthusiastic supporter of King the way Sam Seabury is, and he stuck by his girlfriend even after her family became Deplo, so he’s shown some basic decency – and honestly, Alex, even though he screwed up, I think he was sincere about wanting to be part of the Movement.”

“Nothing from any of the hospitals,” Eliza reported. “Nobody that even sounded remotely like Marty has been admitted.”

Alex and John looked at each other.

“That’s good, though, right?” Sylvia asked.

“Yeah, sure,” John said, “but it doesn’t get us anywhere.”

There was a knock at the door, and Eliza let Danny in. “I had to walk from 113th,” he said as he came in. “I don’t know what the hell’s going on, but there are half a dozen police cars blocking Broadway, and the bus had to detour around.”

“Was there an accident?” Eliza asked.

Danny shrugged. “I don’t know. Here, I wanted to show you guys this.” He opened his laptop to the Auden-James Academy website and signed in, then went to the alumni page. “Okay, this is Nick Mattice, who’s now a Greater. Anybody recognize him?”

Sylvia’s eyes widened. “That wasn’t the name he used, and I for sure didn’t know he was a Greater, but yeah. Marty was talking to him last week. I was meeting Marty for lunch, and when I got there, this guy was leaving. He said something like, ‘Hi, I’m Matt, you must be Sylvia, have to go,’ you know? I asked Marty who he was and he said he was just somebody he knew from high school. That was it.”

“He called himself Matt?” Alex asked.

“But if his last name is Mattice, that could be a nickname,” Eliza pointed out. “It doesn’t have to be an alias.”

“Marty introduced him to us as Nick,” Danny said.

“That’s not what’s important,” Alex told him. “Names aside, now we know Marty was talking to him recently.”

“But what does that mean?” Sylvia asked plaintively. “I know Marty wasn’t working for the Greaters.”

“Could Marty have been trying to get Mattice to work for the Movement?” John suggested. “Maybe as a way of making up to Alex for having talked too much about the meeting?”

Alex turned and looked at John incredulously. “Seriously?”

“Why not?” John asked. “Let’s assume Sylvia is right, that Marty regrets what he did. It was a mistake, not an act of betrayal. We know who the traitor was. At worst, Marty gave him a time and place to act, but it would have happened sooner or later. Maybe Marty wants to accomplish something for the Movement to prove which side he’s on.” John looked from Alex to Eliza to Danny.

“Well, it’s not totally unbelievable,” Danny conceded.

“That would explain why he was excited about going to meet someone,” Sylvia said.

Alex nodded. “Okay, but then what? He went to meet X, but he didn’t come back. He didn’t give you any idea of when he’d be back?” he asked Sylvia.

“No, just said he’d see me later.”

“So he definitely didn’t expect to be out all night,” Eliza said.

Alex tapped his fingers on his knee for a while. “All right, here’s what I think. You wait till two o’clock in the afternoon. If Marty’s not back by then, it will have been forty-eight hours, and the police will have to take you seriously. You report him as a missing person.” He held up his hand as Sylvia started to object. “Hear me out. That may or may not help, but at least you’re going through proper channels. In the meantime, we’ll get the word out and everybody can ask around. Somebody may have seen him, have some ideas, who knows? There’s nothing we can do now that we haven’t already done, and it’s one o’clock in the morning.”

“The police won’t listen to me,” Sylvia objected. “I’m a Deplo. They won’t care about anything I say.”

“I’ll go with you,” John volunteered. “I’ll pull my Have card.”

“You’re a _Have?”_

He winked at her. “Yeah, but don’t tell anybody.”

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” Eliza asked impulsively. “So you don’t have to be alone.”

“Could I?” Sylvia’s voice was trembling. “Are you sure? What about Angelica?”

“She won’t be back until morning. It’s fine.” Eliza shot warning glances at Alex, John, and Danny. “I’ve got pajamas you can borrow.”

Sylvia started crying. “You’re all being so nice to me,” she sniffed, “even after everything. Thank you so much. I didn’t think … I was scared to come here.”

Alex took her hand. “Listen, Marty has gotten on my nerves for two years, but I have never wished him any harm, and I still don’t. We’ll do what we can to help.” He turned to Eliza. “You’ll call me if you hear anything, right?”

“Of course.” She kissed Alex and then John, while Danny rolled his eyes.

John punched Danny in the arm. “Looks like you get the couch tonight.”

Danny punched him back. “Well, thank God for that. I thought it would be the floor.”

On the way to the parking area, Alex wondered aloud, “Where do you think Angelica is?”

“I have no idea,” John responded, “but I’m not going to ask Eliza. She’s already decided that we don’t need to know.”

*          *          *          *          *

It was seven o’clock in the morning when Sylvia’s phone started ringing. She woke up and grabbed it, while Eliza swung her legs over the side of the bed opposite and watched with a worried frown.

“Yes,” Sylvia said, wide-eyed. “I stayed with a friend last night. I’m sorry, why are you asking me? Why can’t you tell me?” She listened for a moment. “No, I’m not trying to be uncooperative, I just don’t understand. All right, I’ll be there.” She hung up.

“What’s going on?” Eliza asked.

“It was the police,” Sylvia said. “I have to be at the station before nine o’clock to talk to a Sergeant Oliver.”

Eliza picked up her phone and called Alex.

*          *          *          *          *

They met up at a Starbucks about two blocks from the station.

“Where’s Danny?” Eliza asked.

“At the apartment in case we need back-up,” Alex responded. “Where’s Angelica?”

“I can get her if we need her,” Eliza told him. It wasn’t a good time to explain anything.

Alex turned to Sylvia. “Tell them you want Eliza to stay with you.”

“I do,” Sylvia said.

“All right. I don’t know what they may or may not permit. If they want you to go into another room and they say Eliza has to wait for you, make as much of an uproar as you can. Ask them why, start crying, anything to create a disturbance. Sometimes that’s enough. They don’t want to look like they’re mistreating a young woman who’s already upset.”

Sylvia nodded. “Okay, I can do that.”

“Eliza, if things get bad, tell them you’re calling your boyfriend. That will be John, waving his Have credentials all over the place and threatening to call his father, his lawyer, and Director Loring himself.” He held out a handful of cards and a driver’s license. “You’re Sandra Davis.”

“Got it,” Eliza said, replacing her IDs and debit card with the Sandra Davis documents. She handed her own license and cards to Alex.

“We don’t want the Schuyler name mentioned at all, is that clear?” Alex asked, looking at Sylvia.

“I understand. If I talk to Eliza, I call her Sandra.”

John took Sylvia’s hand. “You can’t slip up on that, Sylvia. This is serious.”

Sylvia was pale and shaky, but she seemed to understand. She nodded, and John gave her an encouraging hug, then kissed Eliza. “We’re going to stay here until you come back,” he said. “Update if you can.”

“How long?” Eliza asked.

John glanced at his phone. “It’s eight forty-five. If we haven’t heard anything by twelve thirty, your boyfriend is going to come looking for you because you texted him that you were accompanying your friend to the police station but you would meet him for your lunch date at noon. If you don’t show up on time, he’ll be very worried.”

Eliza held onto John’s hand while she kissed Alex. She turned to John with a faint smile. “Don’t let Alex have too much sugar.”

John watched them go out the door, then went to get coffee. When he came back to the table, Alex was poking angrily at his phone. “Where the _fuck_ is Angelica?” he snapped.

“Wherever she is, Eliza knows, and she’s not worried,” John reminded him.

“Angelica should be here right now.”

John took a sip of coffee and looked across the table calmly. “Why?”

Alex glared at him. “You know why!”

“She’s not a fragile flower, _mi amor._ She can handle things.”

“I don’t want …” Alex bit his lip and stirred his coffee hard enough to splash some of it out of the cup. “Fuck!” he muttered, mopping it up with a napkin.

“Hey,” John said, putting his hand on Alex’s. “Trust her.”

“What?”

“Trust her to know what to do.”

“You’re not worried?”

“Don’t be an idiot. Of course I’m worried, but Eliza’s smart, and she can call for help if she needs it.”

“I’d still rather it was Angelica going in there.”

“I know.”

“Where do you think she is?”

John sighed. “I’m getting you a muffin.”

*          *          *          *          *

Sylvia and Eliza had to wait to be buzzed in to the reception area of the police station. Everything in it was gray – the walls, the furniture, and the uniforms, although the uniforms were adorned with varying amounts of shiny gold braid.

Sylvia stepped up to the desk. “I’m here to see Sergeant Oliver,” she said to the young police officer on duty.

“Name please,” the officer requested, not even looking up.

“Sylvia Johnson.”

The Greater clicked his computer screen a few times and finally made eye contact. “What’s your business with Sergeant Oliver?”

“I don’t actually know,” Sylvia told him. “He called me this morning and said I needed to be here by nine.”

The officer turned to Eliza. “And you are?”

“Sandra Davis. I’m a friend of Sylvia’s.”

“Why are you here?”

“I asked her to come with me,” Sylvia responded quickly. “I’m sure you can understand that it’s a little upsetting to get a call from the police early in the morning demanding that you report to the station. Of course I didn’t want to come alone.”

 _You go, Sylvia!_ Eliza cheered silently.

“IDs, please.”

They handed over their IDs, and the officer examined them carefully, then handed them back. He got up and left the room through a doorway behind his desk.

Sylvia turned to Eliza. “Do you have any idea …”

Eliza didn’t get a chance to answer because the young officer came right back. “Come on,” he said.

They both followed him, and he didn’t try to stop Eliza. _Over the first hurdle,_ she told herself.

Sergeant Oliver was about fifty years old, balding, tall, and a bit paunchy. He surveyed them coolly. “Which one of you is Sylvia Johnson?”

“I am,” Sylvia said.

“And you’re the friend?”

“Yes, sir.” Eliza was going to be extra-polite for now.

He waved them into chairs and then sat down himself, facing Sylvia directly. “Miss Johnson, are you acquainted with Martin Middicks?”

Sylvia’s face, already pale, turned a sickly greenish-white. She grabbed for Eliza’s hand. “Yes,” she said, her voice shaky. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“Mm,” commented Sergeant Oliver, tapping a pen on his desk. “When did you last see him?”

“Day before yesterday, around two in the afternoon. Why?”

“Not since then?”

“No, sir. _Why?”_

“Did you try to contact him?”

“Yes, I called, I texted. I was worried.”

“We even called hospitals last night,” Eliza put in. There would be a record of the calls, so she wasn’t revealing anything they probably didn’t already know. _What’s going on?_ she wondered. _Has Marty been arrested? For what?_

“Miss Johnson,” Oliver said, “are you aware that your boyfriend has been involved with the group known as the Movement?”

Eliza didn’t have to pretend to be shocked, and she saw the same emotion on Sylvia’s face. _Lie, Sylvia, lie,_ she willed as hard as she could.

“Of course not,” Sylvia retorted, apparently highly offended. “Marty would never be mixed up with them.”

“I’m afraid you’re wrong,” Oliver told her, his voice dripping with what Eliza could tell was fake sympathy.

“Why are you saying that?” Sylvia asked. “Have you arrested him or something? If you have, it’s absolutely a mistake. Marty has always been a supporter of President King.”

“I can confirm that,” Eliza put in. “I’ve known Sylvia and Marty for nearly two years, and I know they don’t have any seditionist sympathies.”

Oliver shook his head sadly. “It seems that, like so many innocent girls, you have been deceived. The seditionists are experts at manipulating the naïve and idealistic. Martin Middicks may even have thought that he was working to help the legal government, but he was pulled into the Movement's web of treachery.”

“I’m sure there’s been some mistake,” Eliza said.

Oliver shook his head again. “We are very thorough in our investigations.”

“So you’ve arrested him?” Sylvia asked. “Is that why you called me? Does he want to see me or have me contact a lawyer for him?”

“Oh, no,” Sergeant Oliver replied with a faint, icy smile. “You’re here to identify his body.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andrew Oliver, like Martin Middicks, Sylvia Johnson, Malcolm McMartin, and Nicholas Mattice, was a New York Loyalist. He's a particularly cruel Greater in this story.  
> What happened to Marty?  
> Where do you think Angelica is? Eliza's not telling yet, but you’ll find out pretty soon. You may not like it, though, and Alex definitely won’t.  
> Thanks to all of you for continuing to read this, and even more thanks for leaving kudos and/or comments. More coming soon.


	72. It’s Getting Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliza helps Sylvia and tells the others what happened. Alex has a theory. Angelica has something to conceal and gets on John's nerves. Gil holds forth on love and philosophy.

Sylvia gasped and slid out of the chair to the floor, unconscious. Eliza knelt down next to her, shooting a furious glance over her shoulder at Sergeant Oliver. “Would you please call for some help?” she snapped.

“Of course,” Oliver said without a shred of concern in his voice. “Poor girl.”

Within a few minutes, a paramedic had arrived, and said that in his opinion, Sylvia had fainted on hearing bad news. Since she was already regaining consciousness, he didn’t seem to think it was worthwhile to take any tests, although he did suggest that she eat something.

Eliza held onto Sylvia’s hand, and as Sylvia started to blink and look around, told her, “Sh, don’t try to talk,” warning in her eyes. The EMT left for a minute and returned with a bottle of water and a protein bar, and Eliza tried to thank him politely. She helped Sylvia to sit up on the floor, leaning against the chair, and gave her the water.

Sylvia shook her head, tears gathering in her eyes. “Did he say Marty was dead?” she asked.

Eliza put her arm around Sylvia’s shoulders. “That’s what he said, but if they were sure, they wouldn’t need you to identify the body.”

Sergeant Oliver cleared his throat. “Actually we are quite sure, based on the student ID found on the body. Miss Johnson’s identification is a formality.”

Eliza turned on him, “Will you stop torturing this poor girl? If Marty is dead, why did you go through that stupid charade of questioning her?”

“Please watch your tone, Miss Davis. You sound quite concerned about the death of a seditionist.”

“I’m concerned about the death of my friend’s boyfriend,” Eliza retorted, “who was not a seditionist.” She turned back to Sylvia and gave her the protein bar. “You have to eat this,” she said gently, and then she stood up to face Sergeant Oliver. “I know Marty Middicks well. I’ve known him for two years. Would my identification of his body suffice for your formality?”

Oliver was caught off guard. “Well, I … Let me see your ID again.”

Eliza handed him the student ID and driver’s license in the name of Sandra Davis. Oliver went through a careful comparison with her face and the pictures, but there was nothing he could find fault with. He gave them back to her and said, “Everything seems to be in order.”

“I won’t leave Sylvia here alone,” Eliza declared. “Get someone to come sit with her.”

Oliver looked annoyed, but he could hardly insist that a girl who had just fainted on hearing that her boyfriend was dead would be fine on her own. He made a call and after a few minutes, a female Greater came into the office. By then, Sylvia was back in her chair, holding the water bottle. Oliver explained the situation as briefly as possible, then turned to Eliza. “Very well, Miss Davis. Come with me.”

*          *          *          *          *

It took Angelica about ten seconds to spot Alex and John in the Starbucks. She made her way to their table, yanked out a chair, and sat down. “What the _fuck_ is going on?”

“Hello to you too,” Alex responded, at least as annoyed as she was.

John intervened. “How did you know we were here?”

“Eliza texted me. Where is she?”

“When did she text you?” John asked.

“Right before nine. Why?”

Jon looked at Alex. “Before they went in, then.”

Alex nodded.

“I swear to God if one of you doesn’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going to start screaming and say you molested me.”

“ _Jesus,_ Angelica, shut up,” John snapped. John didn’t talk to people that way.

Angelica took a breath. “Okay, I’m sorry. I don’t like getting weird texts from my sister and not knowing what she’s talking about.”

“Show me the text,” John demanded, still not sounding like himself.

She held out her phone. _Sylvia looking for Marty, have to go to police station with her. Taking Sandra along. J & A at Starbucks 118th._

“That’s her way of telling you it’s serious enough that she’s using a different ID?”

“Yeah. If anybody ever asks, we each have a little good-luck cat charm. Hers is Sandra. Mine is Allison.”

“Smart.”

Angelica did her best to keep her voice calm. “John, please tell me what happened. Is Marty missing?”

“Yeah.”

“How did Eliza get involved?”

“Sylvia went to your dorm room for help.”

“Oh.” There was a long silence. “I wasn’t there.”

“I know,” John told her. “Eliza called us, and Alex and Danny and I went over. This morning the police called Sylvia, telling her to report by nine o’clock. That’s where we are now.”

“It’s ten thirty.”

“Yeah. If Eliza’s not back by twelve thirty, I go in as Sean Burns.”

“Two more hours?”

“Unless she’s back before then.”

Angelica got a tissue out of her purse and blew her nose. “I’m getting coffee.”

Alex waited until Angelica was at the counter, and then he took John’s hand. “You okay, babe?”

John pushed his curls off his forehead. “Yeah. Sometimes Angelica pisses me off.”

“No shit.”

John snorted. “I don’t … usually I can let it roll off, and hell, she’s Eliza’s sister, but today I couldn’t deal with her in my face before I had a chance to open my mouth.”

“I think she understands that now. You going to ask her where she was last night?”

“Oh, _hell,_ no.”

Angelica came back with three cups of coffee and three scones. “Peace offering,” she said, putting them on the table, not meeting John’s eyes. She handed Alex an extra sugar packet. “I can drink mine without sugar.”

“Hey,” John said, holding out his hand.

She finally looked up, embarrassed, and took John’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he told her. “Just don’t bite my head off.”

“I know better, really, there was just already stuff …”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

She shook her head. “Not now. Maybe there’s nothing to talk about anyway.” She broke off a piece of her scone and put it in her mouth, then took a sip of coffee. “Even Starbucks can’t get enough sugar.”

“I noticed they stopped putting icing on their scones,” Alex commented, making conversation until John and Angelica got back to normal. “I miss the icing.”

John finally smiled. “Of course you do.”

“When all this is over, and we have normal lives, I’m going to put six spoonfuls of sugar in every cup of coffee.”

John swallowed his bite of not-very-sweet scone. “We’ll talk about that.”

“Why did Sylvia come to Eliza about Marty?” Angelica asked, returning to what she was most concerned with.

“She had some idea that Marty was doing something involved with the Movement,” Alex said.

“He wasn’t, though, right? I mean, there wasn’t some secret thing going on that some of us didn’t know about?”

“No, absolutely not. Even if there were some secret Mission, you have to know Marty’s the last person I’d send.”

“What do you think the police want with Sylvia?”

Alex spread out his hands. “At a guess, they picked up Marty for something, and she’s being questioned as a possible accessory.”

Angelica stared at the table. “If that’s the case, would they let Eliza stay?”

“Ange, you know as much as I do,” Alex told her wearily. “That was just my guess.”

“You don’t think they’re questioning Eliza too, do you?”

“Stop,” John interrupted. “Let’s be done with the guesswork and what if’s. There are three possibilities – one, Eliza comes back here, two, she calls, or three, I go in at twelve thirty. Drink your coffee.”

It was about twenty minutes later when Eliza and Sylvia walked in. John, Alex, and Angelica were across the room in seconds when they saw their faces. Eliza grabbed John’s hand and leaned on his shoulder. “Please can we go home?” she whispered. “I just want to go home.”

John assumed that home meant the apartment, not the dorm, but he didn’t ask, just got them all in the car and drove. Sylvia, next to Eliza in the back seat, couldn’t stop crying, and in the rear-view mirror, he could see that she was shaking. Eliza was staring down at her feet, twisting the bottom of her shirt in her hands. Only Angelica spoke, trying to murmur words of comfort without even knowing why they needed it.

When they got home, Eliza held on to both John and Alex, pulling them both to the couch with her so she could sit between them. Danny, alerted by a text from John, had already made tea and was heating up soup on the stove. Sylvia got the upholstered chair, and Angelica sat by the desk. Eliza started crying, and Danny got boxes of tissues and put them on the coffee table and the desk.

Alex put his arm around Eliza and held her. “You don’t have to talk, baby girl,” he said. “Take your time.”

She reached for a tissue and wiped her eyes. “No, I have to tell you.” The tears started again. “Is Sylvia okay?”

Sylvia looked ill. Her face was sickly white with red blotches from crying, and she was shivering. Danny got a blanket from the bedroom and tucked it around her, then held her teacup steady so she could drink from it. He went back to the kitchen for mugs of soup for her and Eliza, then sat down on the floor next to her chair.

John was as close to Eliza as he could get, holding her hand and talking to her softly. “We’re here, sweetheart. It’s okay. We’ve got you.”

After a few minutes, Eliza began to talk. “Marty’s dead,” she said, getting that bombshell out of the way first. “Somebody killed him.”

Alex needed a minute to take that in. Then he asked, “Do you know when?”

“Probably the night he went missing. They said he’d been dead about thirty-six hours.” She spoke softly, glancing at Sylvia, who was clutching the blanket tightly and staring at Danny with unfocused eyes as he fed her spoonfuls of soup. “They found his body hidden in the median last night. That’s what the police cars were doing at 113th.” This far north, Broadway was a divided highway with a wide, park-like median between the northbound and southbound lanes. There were trees, bushes, and flowers in the median. It wouldn’t be that difficult to conceal a body in the bushes, although it likely wouldn’t go undiscovered for long.

“They wanted his body found soon,” Alex deduced.

“He was … he’d been shot,” Eliza went on, her voice unsteady. She took a breath and looked at Sylvia again. “In the face.” She turned toward John and closed her eyes, but Marty’s shattered face was still there.

“Mother-fucking …” Alex began, but John shook his head. Eliza needed some peace. Alex nodded assent, leaned around and kissed Eliza’s cheek. “You don’t have to tell us now.”

“No, I want to get it over with. Is Sylvia all right?”

Sylvia had pushed away Danny’s hand and stood up, the blanket falling to the floor. “Bathroom?” she asked urgently, and Danny showed her. In a minute, they heard the sounds of violent retching,

“I’m calling Gil,” Angelica said, pulling out her phone.

“Call everybody,” Alex told her. “We need to talk about this.”

*          *          *          *          *

Gil showed up with a leather bag full of medical equipment that they didn’t even know he had. He ordered Angelica to get Sylvia into bed and make sure she was warm, and then checked her blood pressure and temperature.

He came back into the living room and turned to Danny. “Tell me what you observed.”

“She was pale and shaky, wasn’t talking, drank some tea and ate a little bit of soup, but threw it up within minutes.”

“No injuries?”

“I don’t think so. Eliza, was Sylvia hurt in any way while you were at the police station?”

“No, but she fainted when she found out Marty was dead.”

Gil refused to let himself get distracted by extraneous details like _police station_ and _Marty was dead._ “Could she have hit her head when she fainted?”

Eliza frowned. “I don’t think so. She was sitting in a chair, and she just sort of slipped out of it onto the floor. I was right there.”

“Did she have anything to eat or drink?”

“They gave her a bottle of water and a protein bar, but she only took a couple of sips of water and she didn’t eat the protein bar.”

Gil nodded. “She’s dehydrated, and she’s obviously shocked and upset. Her blood pressure is low, but not dangerous. Eliza, can you sit with her and …”

“No,” Alex interrupted. “Eliza has to tell us what happened.”

“Angelica?”

“Sure,” Angelica agreed, “whatever I can do to help.”

“Make her some tea with sugar, and give her one teaspoon of it every fifteen minutes. No more than that even if she asks for it. After an hour, up it to two teaspoons. After two hours, we’ll try soup again.” He opened his bag and took out a bottle of pills. “Give her one of these with the first teaspoonful of tea.”

Angelica nodded, got the tea, and went into the bedroom.

“What are the pills?” Alex asked.

“Xanax. Anti-anxiety med.”

“Doesn’t Xanax require a prescription?”

“Yes.”

“How do you get it, then?”

“I steal it,” Gil responded impatiently. “There’s only so much I can do legally, so I do some things illegally.” He held up the bag. “You told us to be prepared to go undercover, so I’m putting medical supplies together. We’ll need them.”

“That’s … really smart,” Alex conceded, getting a glimpse of the side of Gil that John referred to as “scary.”

Gil shrugged. “Now maybe you can tell me what happened.”

“Yeah,” Alex said, “as soon as everybody else gets here.”

It didn’t take long. Herc and Tim arrived, and a few minutes later, Jacob Turck, who now had Inner Circle status since they’d had to share so much information with him the night of the bombing. They all sat on the floor, and Danny handed out tea.

Jacob looked around and asked very casually, “Where’s Angelica?”

“In the bedroom with Sylvia,” John told him, trying not to look at Alex.

Alex briefed them all on what had happened, starting with Sylvia coming to Eliza for help, and finishing with his own decision to give them the information.

“Not trying to be cold,” Herc said tentatively, “but how does this relate to us?”

“I’m not sure it does,” Alex responded, “but keep in mind Loring’s speech on TV not long ago. He said that Mark had been killed by someone in the Movement, and he claimed outright that the Movement settled its disputes through violence. He’s doing his best to make us look like a criminal mob with blood feuds and vendettas – you’ve all seen _The Godfather_ , right?”

“You think they killed somebody else in the Movement to illustrate that story?”

“I think it’s possible. You’ve met Loring …”

“He’s a sadistic bastard,” Herc snapped, remembering Nat.

“If he has so-called evidence that the Movement is starting to turn on itself, that makes him look good. I don’t think that would be his priority, though.”

Danny nodded. “He wants to blame us for Marty’s death as well as Mark’s so he can come after us. He can charge somebody with murder.”

“Exactly. Sedition’s not a capital offense yet, although it might as well be, since they can hold you forever, but wouldn’t Loring love a nice headline-grabbing murder trial?”

“Huh,” John said, “I guess we’d all better check our alibis. What was that, Tuesday night?”

“Tuesday from, say, four in the afternoon until midnight.”

“I have a class until four,” Herc said, “and then I shot hoops with Carter and my brothers for a while. I share a room with Damon and Apollo, so I guess I’m in the clear.”

“If they accept family members to collaborate alibis,” Alex muttered darkly.

“What about you, then?” Herc asked.

“I was with John.”

“Yeah, and I was with Alex,” John added.

Danny snorted. “Neither of you can be trusted.”

“Where were you, Danny?” John asked.

“I’m trying to remember. Okay, I was online looking for dark sites where we can get phones till about nine …”

John rolled his eyes. “Oh, that’s helpful.”

“Hey, you asked. Then at nine, I got a snack and talked to Tim for a while, then I went to bed at ten, maybe ten-thirty.”

“Okay, Tim, Danny can alibi you until ten. Where were you after that?”

“Asleep. Alone, so no alibi for me.”

Alex turned to Eliza. “How about you, babe?”

Eliza looked exhausted. “They’re not going to arrest me for murder. They saw my reaction today.”

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Alex said, pulling her closer. “I’m treating this like a strategy exercise, and you had to actually deal with it.”

Gil spoke up. “Eliza, you know something about guns, and you saw Marty’s body. Could you tell what kind of a gun he had been shot with?”

Eliza nodded, her face pale, but her jaw set. “I think so.” She closed her eyes for a moment, let herself see it again. “I’m pretty sure they used a shotgun, twelve gauge. He was shot in the face from about eighteen inches away.” Her voice was starting to shake. “And he’d been beaten before they shot him. There were bruises on his arms, and … burns.” She wiped her eyes with her hand. “He was naked in the morgue, you know? They just threw a towel over him. I think they wanted me to see. He had burns on his arms and his chest. I think they burned him with cigarettes.”

 _“Nom de Dieu!”_ Gil swore, jumping up and pacing. _“Les salauds!_ Bastards!”

Eliza was crying in John’s arms, Alex hanging over them, furious with himself for not handling the situation better. He should have talked with Eliza privately, made sure he knew everything that she had seen, then reported it himself. Instead, he had simply told her to talk with no preparation, throwing her to the wolves. It was no good saying that she was among friends. Of course she was, but that didn’t make describing what she had seen any easier. He leaned in close, rubbing her back. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby girl.”

Gil jerked his head toward the kitchen. “Anybody else want a glass of wine?”

“I’ll take one,” Jacob said, getting up and following him.

Gil handed him a glass of rosé and Jacob looked at it appraisingly. “There wouldn’t be any beer, would there?”

Gil shook his head with a faint smile. “Nobody drinks much here, but I usually keep a bottle of wine in the cupboard. I’m French, so …”

“I never had pink wine,” Jacob confessed.

“It’s good.”

Jacob took a sip. “Not bad. And after that horror story from Eliza, we could all use a drink.”

“I would like to know who did it. I wonder if it was this Sergeant Oliver himself.”

“Does it matter?”

“Well, yes,” Gil told him. “I would prefer to kill the right person.”

Jacob stared at him. “You’re going to …?”

Gil shrugged. “I don’t know yet, but if so, I will find out who did it.”

“Okay.” Jacob took another sip of wine. “Look, I haven’t been here all that long, so I’m still not sure how everything works. I know Alex is in charge, but I’m not real clear on everybody else’s responsibilities. Are you the … uh …”

“Executioner?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Sometimes. It’s not an official title, though.”

“Is that why Alex didn’t ask you for an alibi?”

“Oh, no. Alex knows I didn’t kill Marty.”

“Do you have an alibi?”

Gil smiled and finished his wine. “Technically, yes, but I doubt if she would want to talk to Alex about it.”

“I totally understand that,” Jacob said. “I have the same situation.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, only … well, it could be awkward.”

Gil raised an eyebrow. “A word of advice – you really can’t keep secrets in this group. If Alex asks me. I will have to give him Caitlin’s name.”

“Caitlin? So, you’re seeing somebody who’s not in the Movement?”

“Yes, but if Alex questions her, I will not see her again.”

“You mean she doesn’t know you’re part of the Movement?”

“Correct.”

“You don’t seem worried.”

“I am not in love with her. If I were, it would be entirely different – but if I were in love with her, she would know I am part of the Movement.”

Jacob nodded. “I get that. If it’s a serious relationship, you have to be honest with each other.” He looked a little worried.

Gil smiled again. “Eliza knows, right?”

“What?”

Gil waited patiently, and after a minute, Jacob ran his hand over his face. “What gave it away?”

“I think you have been ignoring one another too thoroughly.”

“Shit. Do you think Alex has figured it out?”

“If he hasn’t, he will by the end of this evening.”

“We weren’t … God, there are so many things … the age difference, that’s a big one. She’s a college girl, and I’m a Deplo doing odd jobs. I’m divorced, with kids. I mean, there’s a lot …”

Gil watched him attentively. He liked Jacob. He had saved Deb’s life, and maybe John’s. He was a good, decent man. The rest of it didn’t matter very much, as far as he was concerned. “We live in a hard time,” he said, “and love is not easy to find. If we’re lucky enough to find it, we should take it.”

Jacob smiled. “That’s a pretty good philosophy.”

“For what it’s worth, I wish you well.”

“Thanks.”

They went back into the living room, and Gil went to check on Sylvia. She had fallen asleep, and Angelica was sitting beside her reading something on her phone.

“How long has she been asleep?” Gil asked quietly.

“About half an hour.”

“We’ll have to wake her up before long and get her to drink something.”

Angelica nodded. “I was thinking, maybe she could go back to the dorm with me for tonight, so she won’t have to talk to anybody. Eliza can stay here. She does a lot of the time anyway.”

“I think that’s a good plan. Sylvia shouldn’t be alone.”

Angelica sighed. “I never liked Marty, you know, or Sylvia either, but nobody deserves this. It makes me feel guilty.”

Gil put his hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to like someone personally to understand that they deserve to be treated fairly. You weren’t unkind to them.”

“I don’t know … I wish I could be nice like Eliza.”

“You are you, and Eliza is Eliza. Don’t … don’t try to become what you are not.” He huffed impatiently. “Were the verbs right in that sentence?”

“I think so. I understood it, anyway. It’s good advice.”

“I seem to be handing out advice today.”

“Oh? To who else?”

“I was just talking to Jacob.”

“Oh.” There was a long silence, and then she asked, “What advice did you give him?”

“Take love where you find it.”

She looked up at him. “Do you really believe that?”

“Oh, yes.”

“What did Jacob say?”

“That he thought it was a good philosophy.”

She rubbed her forehead as if she had a headache. “I don’t know about love, Gil. It seems way, way too complicated.”

“I think it will be simple,” he said. “I think that when you find the one you love, it will be simple and peaceful.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “Not exciting?”

He thought for a minute, making sure he had the words right in English. “There will be excitement, of course, but the center of it, the heart of it, will be peace.”

“That’s lovely, Gil. I don’t think I believe it, but it’s lovely.”

“I don’t expect everyone to agree with me.” He waved his hand toward the living room. “Go get something to eat. I’ll sit with her for half an hour.”

She stood up and put her arms around his neck for a hug. “Thanks for not judging.”

He stroked her hair. “We are who we are. We love who we love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loring and his Greaters have a plan to destroy the Movement, or at least the New York cell of it. Marty's death is part of that plan.  
> Our squad will soon have to deal with some very scary stuff.  
> Many thanks to all of you who have left kudos and comments. I always love hearing from you.


	73. The War’s Not Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Director Loring claims to be investigating the murder of Marty Middicks, and a suspect is arrested. There is extreme disagreement within the squad. Alex looks to the General for leadership. Danny recognizes an old friend.

It only took Sylvia a few days to decide that she was leaving the university, leaving New York, and moving back to her parents’ home in Maryland. As a Deplo, she wouldn’t be allowed to return in September anyway, so she didn’t see any point in finishing the semester.

“Are you sure?” Eliza asked her. “There’s only a few more weeks. If you take exams, you’ll have credit for the courses, so if you ever go back to school, it will count.”

Sylvia shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll ever go back to school. Where would I go? Deplos aren’t allowed in any universities anymore.”

Eliza reached for her hand. “This won’t last forever. We’re going to bring down King’s government and have free elections. We’ll have the Constitution back the way it was under President Washington.”

“I know you believe that, Eliza, and maybe I did too for a while, but now … I think this is just the way our country is. It’s not going to change, so I might as well adapt.”

Eliza hugged her, both of them crying, and then Angelica and John took her to the station. John dropped Angelica back at the dorm and she sat down on her bed, her head in her hands. “Eliza, what are we going to do?”

“We’re going to keep fighting. It will get better, Ange. There are a lot of good people who are dedicated to changing things.”

“You sound like Alex.”

“Well, Alex is usually right.”

Angelica snorted. “I knew he hypnotized you.”

Eliza smiled. She was glad that Angelica could joke now about her relationship with Alex and John. She’d had time to see that they were happy together, and, while she might not be enthusiastic about their relationship, she’d stopped trying to talk Eliza out of it. Besides, Angelica was now involved in a relationship that was problematic in other ways. Eliza liked Jacob; she liked him a lot, but he was thirty-three to Angelica’s twenty-one, and he had two kids that he was devoted to. She stared out the window as Angelica made herself some tea, wondering if she was having exactly the same kind of thoughts that Angelica had had about her. She had already made up her mind not to say anything.

*          *          *          *          *

Director Loring was appearing on TV almost daily, warning people about the danger of the Movement, which was, he claimed, actually a crime syndicate. Occasionally, Commissioner Howe would issue a statement, but he wasn’t as focused on the issue as Loring. That, John said, was because he was too busy focusing on Loring’s wife. Pictures of the two of them together kept appearing on the internet to feed the gossip. On the rare occasion that a reporter asked questions, both William Howe and Lizzie Loring smiled for the camera and admitted that yes, they were friends. There had been a major fracas a week ago when they dined together at an upscale restaurant, and their waiter hummed the now well-known song “The Ballad of Lizzie Loring” while serving them. The waiter had been arrested, and nobody knew what had become of him.

“That was just stupid,” said Alex. “It’s not worth risking arrest just to make a point.”

“Remember back when we had that ‘freedom of speech’ thing?” Danny asked nostalgically, as if he were seventy years old.

“We’ll get it back,” Alex told him.

Danny looked serious for once, brooding as he stared at the story on his phone. “I hope you’re right.”

It was more than a week after Marty’s death before there was mention of it on the news. Ken and Barbie were relating the story, wearing their sad faces. According to “sources,” Marty had been murdered by members of the Movement in retaliation for the death of Mark Willet, who, they were told, had belonged to an opposing faction within the Movement.

“We don’t have factions in the Movement, you morons,” John said to the TV.

Alex waved at him to be quiet.

“Even though Martin Middicks was a seditionist,” Ken was saying, “Director Loring and his agents will be investigating his murder.”

They cut to a video clip of Loring. “I may not have agreed with this young man’s actions,” Loring declared, “but that doesn’t mean his killer will not be brought to justice. No one gets away with murder in this city, no matter who the victim may be.”

“Well, that’s bullshit,” Danny muttered.

The news show cut back to Barbie, who reiterated what Loring had said, and then went to a soap commercial.

Alex was pacing.

“What?” John asked him.

Alex stopped near the table and started tapping on it. “They killed Marty to set us up,” he said. “There was no other reason to do it. Oh, yeah, they tried to get information out of him, but he didn’t have any to give.”

“Our names?” Eliza asked tentatively.

Alex shook his head. “They’ve got our names. They got them from Mark, but there are some problems. Our group here happens to include a member of the French nobility at a time when they don’t want to piss off European countries.” He gestured toward Gil, who saluted politely. “Then there’s the rich Have kid whose dad is a buddy of George King. Sorry, John, we all know you’re not responsible for your relatives. And the Schuyler family is not exactly unknown in New York politics. If they want to come after us, we have more protection than some of the other groups.”

Herc looked around the room. “So are you saying that you, me, Danny, Tim, or Jacob is most likely to be arrested for murder?”

Alex considered. “Probably not Jacob, because he hasn’t been involved long enough. Mark wouldn’t have known his name. Tim might have some protection as a pastor, because it never looks good to arrest a member of the clergy.”

“Thanks,” Tim told him drily.

“But you, me, Danny …” Alex continued. “Yeah, we need to keep an eye out.”

“What are you going to do?” Jacob asked.

“What we’ve been doing, lying low. That’s at the General’s orders. The Insurrection didn’t go well for a lot of reasons, but one big one was lack of planning and organization. Headquarters is working on that now, so next time, we’ll be acting strategically. People will have training.”

“And what – we’re going to do all this while we’re in hiding somewhere living on the couple hundred pounds of rice you’ve got stashed in the cars?” Angelica inquired skeptically.

“Yeah,” Alex responded. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

Angelica was sitting on the floor, and she leaned her head back against Jacob’s knee. “I don’t know if I can take it all seriously, Alex.”

Alex bit his lip. He didn’t want to fight with Angelica. “One thing at a time,” he said. “It looks impossible now, but we’re not going to do it in a week or two.”

“How long do you think?” Jacob asked.

“At least a year, more likely two.”

Jacob nodded, and put his hand on Angelica’s head. “That’s not unreasonable.” She turned and looked up at him, not smiling.

“You too, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I want a better life than this.”

*          *          *          *          *

A few days later Alex got a coded message from Ben Tallmadge that Frank Marion’s squad had gone underground.

Alex stared at a map of the Charleston on his phone. “I wonder where they are.”

John snorted. “You don’t know South Carolina, babe. There are enough islands and inlets that you could hide out in the swamps for years. Besides, you’ve always said Frank’s the smartest guy in the Movement, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then he’s got it figured out.”

Alex scrolled the map to look at other cities – Baltimore, Philadelphia, New York, Boston. “I wonder who will be next.”

A week went by with no significant news. Then the following Friday Alex was sitting in class when his phone started vibrating in his pocket. He checked and saw that it was a call, not a text, from Tim. He was putting the phone back in his pocket when it started going off again, and he saw the first couple of words of a text from John: _URGENT CALL ME NOW._

There were five minutes left in class, and he waited. Five minutes wouldn’t make a difference to whatever the urgent matter was, but dashing out of class early wasn’t “keeping a low profile.” Still, it seemed like an incredibly long five minutes. Once the class was dismissed, he left, trying to walk at a normal pace, and called John back from a corner of the quad, willing himself to keep his face expressionless no matter what he heard.

John picked up the instant the phone began to ring. “Come home now,” he ordered. “Danny’s been arrested for murder.”

*          *          *          *          *

John had managed to contact everybody, and they all got to the apartment within minutes. Tim was sitting on the couch, his head in his hands, Eliza next to him. He looked up when Alex came in. His eyes were red, and his face was panic-stricken.

“He was at school,” he said, his voice breaking. “Of all the … I’ve been nagging him to go to school more, and he tells me it’s boring because he already knows everything they teach, and it’s true, he does, but … I told him … I told him not to be so cocky, and I think it hurt his feelings, because he isn’t, really, and …” He put his head in his hands and sobbed, and Eliza put her arms around him. After a minute, he took a deep breath and cleared his throat, then went on. “I talked to his teacher … the Greaters took him out of history class. They said they had witnesses …”

“Witnesses?” Alex asked, incredulous. “That’s not possible.”

Tim shook his head. “Not … not to … murder. They said he assaulted Marty before.”

Alex’s face went pale. “Oh, God. Oh, my God.” He started pacing. “It was just some stupid … the day we saw Marty talking to Nick Mattice, he and Danny got into a stupid argument. Marty pushed Danny, and Danny took him down. That was all. Nobody got hurt.”

“Did Nick Mattice see it?” Gil asked.

“Yeah, I guess … there were some other people around. It was nothing, really.”

“But they could make it sound like something,” Angelica said.

“But they can’t … Danny didn’t kill Marty, we all know that.”

“Murder’s a capital crime,” Herc reminded him. “Death penalty.”

“Jesus, Herc, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying what we all know. Loring will build a case against Danny and he’ll be sentenced to death.”

Tim started crying again, and Eliza held him, looking at Alex over his head.

“We have to go get him,” she said.

Alex nodded. “Yeah, I … I need to call the General …”

John turned to him, his face like stone. “You don’t mean you’re going to ask his _permission_ , do you?”

“I have to … I can’t just … how many people can I put at risk?”

John gripped his arm angrily. “Alex, it’s _Danny_.”

“I know, I know.”

“Fuck it, Alex, if the General says no, I’m going in anyway.”

“I’m with you, John,” Gil said.

“Me too,” Herc echoed.

Angelica and Jacob stood up.

Alex felt like the weight of responsibility was going to crush him. “You could all die.”

John met his eyes directly. “Yeah.”

“If we die, we die,” Angelica declared. “I’d rather be dead than live another fifty safe years knowing we’d abandoned Danny, who would die to save any one of us any day.”

“Without even taking time to consider the implications of his action,” Gil added, and Alex saw the cold rage in his eyes.

“You think I don’t feel the same way?” Alex asked furiously. “You think I don’t care as much as you do about Danny?”

“You tell me,” John snapped, his face inches from Alex’s.

 _“Stop!”_ Tim yelled, his voice ragged with tears. “Don’t you dare start fighting among yourselves! Don’t you see that’s what they want? They want to destroy us, so they’ll do everything they can to turn us against each other.”

John took a step back and looked away. “Okay, I know you’re right, Tim, but … I don’t care what the General or anybody else says, we have to get Danny.”

Tim turned to Alex. “Call the General,” he directed.

Alex took the phone into the bedroom, his hands shaking and his heart hammering. _I have to get better at this,_ he told himself. _I have to be able to make decisions without going to pieces._ _They told me I could lead, so I need to do it._

He held onto the phone and gave himself time to take a few deep breaths. _I have to make a case for getting Danny out of jail. How can I convince the General that one sixteen-year-old kid is worth risking all our lives for?_

After a few more minutes he dialed the number.

*          *          *          *          *

Danny didn’t doubt for a minute that he could outfight or outsmart any of the Greaters he had seen so far. He could probably handle two, maybe three, but there were never only two or three around. For now, he was locked in a cell, but he was thinking nonstop, studying the faces of every Greater who walked by so that he would recognize them again, reading the names on their uniform pockets so he could match the names to the faces. _Remember everything,_ he reminded himself. _You never know what you’ll need._

He knew he’d be there for a while. He wasn’t going to waste time wondering how John and Alex would find him. They’d figure it out. For now, count the seconds and calculate how often a Greater walked down the passageway in front of his cell. Learn when the shifts changed. Listen to voices and assess who might be in the cells on either side of him. Exercise. Ask for a Bible. Tim had coded a message to Fran with a Bible. Somehow, he’d have to let them know where he was. He didn’t know that himself at the moment. He’d been brought here in a closed van that unloaded in a covered parking area. He’d seen asphalt beneath his feet and block walls in front of him. The doors were gray. There were no windows. It was a start.

He paced out the length of his cell, did the math so he could jog a few miles a day. He wondered what kind of food he’d get in here. Not worth worrying about. There was a sink, so he could get water and stay hydrated. Drink water. Exercise. Think. Plan.

He’d jogged a mile when they brought his dinner tray. A baloney sandwich on white bread, a banana well past its prime, and a carton of milk on a flimsy Styrofoam tray. He ate it all, vowing never to complain about Tim’s cooking again. The Styrofoam was too thin to be of any use to him, but he filed it in his mind. It was something he knew he had access to. He jogged two more miles after dinner, then lay on his bunk pretending to sleep, but listening carefully to everything around him. He heard women’s voices as well as men’s. Were some of the guards women, or did they no longer have separate prisons for men and women? He’d find out. Another thing that he didn’t have a use for yet, but might in the future. What was it Alex had said to him once when he’d been complaining about a homework assignment? _Nothing you learn is ever wasted._

He knew they’d get him out eventually, but in the meantime, he’d see what he could do to rescue himself.

*          *          *          *          *

Alex had gotten Ben on the phone first and told him what had happened, and Ben agreed that he needed to speak to the General, but the General was in a meeting and couldn’t be disturbed. “Call back in half an hour,” Ben said.

“Half an hour? Really?”

“I’m sorry, Alex, it’s the best I can do.”

Alex didn’t go into the living room to talk to anybody. He couldn’t. He needed to have everything organized before he faced them again. He had to be able to tell them that they were going to bring Danny home, but he had to convince the General before he could do that. The thirty minutes dragged by like hours until he could finally call again, and Ben put the General on.

“I’m truly sorry to hear this, Alex,” the General said after Alex had given him the outline of events, “but I don’t know that there’s much that can be done. Do you know where he’s being held?”

“No, sir, not yet.”

“And even if you did, it would be almost impossible to stage any kind of rescue. How many lives would be put at risk …?”

“Sir,” Alex interrupted, a little desperately, “if you would hear me out …”

“All right, go ahead.”

“Sir, we know the Insurrection has failed. We have hope for the success of a future operation, but, in all honesty, I think we understand that the odds are not exactly on our side.” He paused, waiting for a response.

The General sighed. “You’re not wrong. There is considerable reason for optimism if we take the next year or two to reorganize and prepare, but even I acknowledge that during that period of time more of our members could be discovered, and that our numbers could shrink instead of grow. I’d put our chances at fifty-fifty, so while the odds may not be on our side, they’re not on King’s side either.”

Alex could hear the grim smile in General Akhdir’s voice. “Is there any possibility of a foreign ally coming in to help us, sir?”

“You don’t need to know the answer to that question.”

That probably means yes, Alex thought, or at least maybe. I hope I’m guessing right on the country. “If we don’t make it, sir, if we mount another operation in a year or two, and we’re defeated again, then our country is done for. There wouldn’t be enough of us left for a third Insurrection. Look how many we’ve lost already.”

“I’m well aware of that,” the General responded bitterly.

“Sir, Danny Phoenix is exactly the kind of person a future Movement would look to as a leader. He’s as smart as they come, way smarter than me. He’s still in high school, but he’s read all the books I’ve used in my Poli Sci classes, and he can argue any Constitutional point better than I can, maybe as well as Frank Marion could. If he was … if he was available to lead, he could do it.”

“He sounds quite impressive, Alex, but he’s likely to be sentenced to death if he stays in prison, and he will be at almost as great risk if you were somehow to get him out. Where could you possibly hide him that he would be safe?”

Alex swallowed hard. “I was thinking maybe … France, sir?”

The General took a few seconds to respond. “France?”

“You remember that we got Nat Hale’s fiancée to France after he was killed, with help from Gil’s friends at the embassy. I think we might be able to manage the same thing again.” He prayed silently that he was right, that Gil could get another passport blank, that John could get it done in time, that Monsieur and Madame Gérard would go along with it.

“With the plan being that he would be safe in France and able to step into a leadership position here when and if he were needed?”

“Yes sir.” Alex’s mouth was dry. If they did this, they were going to need help, and they couldn’t get help if the General didn’t approve.

“Rather like Bonnie Prince Charlie?”

“I’m sorry, sir, what?”

“I thought you were a student of history, Alex. Prince Charles Edward Stuart, the rightful heir to the British throne, smuggled off to France after the uprising he led was defeated at Culloden in 1746.”

“Oh, right, of course,” Alex responded, dredging his memory for Stuart claimants to the throne and finding nothing. “And … er … did he go back to lead another rebellion?”

“No. It seems he wasn’t a very good leader after all, and he spent the rest of his life involved with too many women and too much wine.”

Alex wondered frantically where this story was going, and did his best to drag it back on track. “If you’re making an analogy, sir, I don’t think Danny Phoenix is much like Prince Charles Edward. He won’t make any claim based on his ancestry, but on his ability. I know he’s a good leader.”

“How does the rest of your squad feel about trying to pull off a rescue?”

“Actually, sir, they are, if anything, even more determined than I am.”

“That speaks well of Danny’s ability to inspire loyalty.”

“Yes, it does.”

“You’d need more people.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ethan’s squad or Tony’s?”

Alex didn’t hesitate. “Tony’s.”

“You’re sure Lafayette can coordinate this?”

“Yes, sir.” _Gil can do this. Of course he can._

“Can you let him take point on this?”

 _Let Gil make the decisions? Yes, maybe Gil’s icy calm was what would be needed._ “Yes, sir. We’ve also got a new guy, Jacob Turck. He’s a former fireman, knows a lot about explosives and munitions.”

“Really? I might want to talk to him after this operation is over.”

“All right, sir.”

There was another pause. “I’m not a hundred per cent confidant that this is a good idea, but if we could have a young leader safe in France, it would make us all feel much more secure about the future of the Movement. Make sure Danny understands that, so he doesn’t see himself as being sent into exile.”

 _That wouldn’t have occurred to me,_ Alex thought, _but of course he’s right. Danny will hate being sent away from the action. He’ll go, though, if he understands why. He’ll do it for us, for the Movement._

“Yes, sir, I will.”

“Keep me updated. You can send reports to Ben.’

“Yes, sir.”

“Is his name really Phoenix?” the General asked.

“Yes, sir, it is.”

The General chuckled. “How appropriate.”

*          *          *          *          *

On Saturday, Danny learned that they got an hour in the yard in the morning and an hour in the afternoon. At least, they were supposed to, but he also learned that yard privileges were the first thing to go if there was any infraction of the rules. No problem there. Danny was going to be a model prisoner.

The yard was a concrete-paved area surrounded by chain-link fence topped with razor wire. It was divided into two sections. Danny stood nonchalantly by the perimeter fence at first, just observing. Within a few minutes, he saw women prisoners being led into the other half of the yard. The guards seemed to tolerate conversation with the women, but warned the men off if they got too close to the fence. Danny walked the perimeter of the yard, just observing, trying to see what he could of the surrounding area. He knew how long it had taken Tim to find out where Fran Manning was being held. If they let him write letters, maybe he could give a hint. Tim would be at police headquarters daily, trying to get information, he was sure. That didn’t mean he would find out anything.

Saturday afternoon, during his second session in the yard, Danny did his best to study the other prisoners. There were about eighty men and maybe twenty women who were on this schedule. It seemed likely to him that other groups used the yard at other times, and there were probably other yards around the building as well. Some of the other prisoners were offended if he looked at them. Some didn’t make eye contact, just stared at the ground. Nobody smiled. He walked slowly past the fence that divided his section of the yard from the women’s section, scanning the faces of the female prisoners. The women seemed to engage in more conversation with each other than the men did. He looked from group to group, hoping he’d be lucky, schooling his face to be expressionless. When he saw her, he stopped walking and stood still, not looking directly at her. She continued her conversation with another woman, never glancing in his direction.

After a few minutes, he turned to a random man near him and said loudly, “What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything,” the guy responded truthfully.

“I heard what you said!” Danny persisted, raising his voice. He was getting attention. Good.

“I didn’t say a fucking thing!”

A Greater stepped up. “All right, what’s going on?”

“This guy insulted my mom,” Danny said, gesturing at the other prisoner.

The Greater rolled his eyes. “Did you insult his mom?” he asked with a total lack of interest.

“No, he’s nuts. I didn’t say a word.”

The Greater turned to Danny. “He didn’t say a word.”

Danny nodded. “Sorry,” he said politely. “I must have been mistaken.”

The guy he’d accused and a couple of others were looking at him suspiciously. It didn’t matter. He glanced back at the women in the other section and caught a glimpse of her astonished face. Fran had seen him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it looks like our squad has a complicated job in front of them. Will they succeed? Will Alex have trouble with Gil being in charge? Why does the General want Gil in charge, anyway? What about Tony's squad? How are they going to feel about risking their lives for this Mission?  
> Apologies if needed for the Bonnie Prince Charlie thing. You know I have an uncontrollable history obsession, and I had just been listening to "Over the Sea to Skye," (find it on youtube) and he was in my head. Truthfully, his story, at least up to his escape after Culloden, is in some ways the inspiration for the escape attempt coming up, so if you ignore his dismal failure after that, it's a great heroic tale.   
> Things are moving fast.  
> Thank you so much for all the kudos and especially for the comments. I always love hearing what you think.  
> Oh, and Happy Birthday, America, you great unfinished (thank God because we're a mess right now) symphony!


	74. Lafayette’s a Smart Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny has a plan. Gil has a plan. Jacob knows how to blow things up. There's some disturbing news from the French embassy. Tim gets a letter.

Alex gave them the details of his conversation with General Akhdir. 

“He wants you to be lead on this, Gil.”

Gil’s eyebrow went up. “Does he? I wonder why.”

“He didn’t say.”

“What do you think about that?”

Alex gave him a rueful smile. “I’m not jealous, if that’s what you’re wondering. Whatever the plan turns out to be, it’s going to be a bitch to coordinate.”

Gil nodded. _“Sûrement._ There are seven of us, plus Tim, who does not carry a gun, but who will work on communication. How many from Tony’s squad?”

“I don’t know yet. I have to call him.”

“First thing in the morning, you call Tony, I call Monsieur Gérard. Tim, you go to the Greaters with all of your credentials and demand to see your ward.”

“All right,” Alex agreed. “Sounds like you have an idea of what you’re doing.”

“I may have questions,” Gil said. _“Sérieusement, Alexandre, je ferai de mon mieux, mais si je me trompe, arrête-moi.”_

 _“Promis,”_ Alex told him. “I won’t let you fuck up.”

Gil boosted himself up on the end of the kitchen counter and addressed all of them. “No matter what plan we come up with, we’re going to be vastly outnumbered. We’re going to need strategies that don’t depend on numbers. I’ll take any ideas you’ve got.”

“Element of surprise,” John said immediately. “They can’t have any suspicion that we’re coming.”

“Right,” Gil nodded. “What else?”

“Distraction,” Jacob suggested. “Get their attention on something that’s not our real goal, then hit the actual target.”

“Deception,” Alex added. “Give them false information of some kind.”

“Good,” Gil said. “All of those things. We can’t have a real plan until we know where Danny is. Tim will be working on that. Let’s hope he’s still in the local area. The detention centers around here are mostly in old industrial parks where there are lots of places to hide. If he’s been moved to a giant facility surrounded by open territory, it’s going to be a lot harder.”

*          *          *          *          *

“You want to do _what?_ ” the Greater asked incredulously.

“Start a Bible study group,” Danny repeated.

“You’re out of your fucking mind,” the Greater told him.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Danny responded sincerely. “I’ll keep praying about it, and I’ll pray for you too.”

 _And I’d also better pray for forgiveness for lying about why I want to lead a Bible study group,_ he thought later.

The next afternoon in the yard, he started looking at the faces of his fellow prisoners. Until now, he’d ignored those who wanted to be ignored and kept his eyes on what was outside the fence. Starting today, though, he wanted to be able to identify the other inmates, figure out who might be allies. He stood near the perimeter fence, head up, making eye contact with anyone he could. Most of the others looked away. One snapped, “What are you looking at, boy?” About fifteen minutes in, a pair of blue eyes met his, and he got a shock of recognition.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe it was wishful thinking. Damn, why hadn’t Alex or somebody come up with a secret code word or handshake or something so they could identify themselves? Anybody out here in the yard could be a spy for Loring – or a fellow member of the Movement. He debated how to ask without being obvious. Conversations in the yard were usually minimal. Most of the prisoners just stood around smoking cigarettes and avoiding each other. This guy, the one with the blue eyes, was off by himself. Well, he would be, wouldn’t he, if he was who Danny thought he was.

He looked back, but now the guy was facing away from him, looking down at the concrete like so many of the others, avoiding human contact. That’s what the Greaters wanted. They wanted the prisoners to be suspicious of each other, want to prevent any human connections. Danny strolled casually along the fence, glancing up from time to time to keep the guy in sight, hoping he wasn’t wrong in his conclusion. It took him about twenty minutes to get near him, another five to get close enough to speak without raising his voice. He came up behind him, and said casually, “You got a cigarette?”

The guy spun around, startled. “No.” He shook his head. “I don’t smoke.”

“Me either,” Danny told him, his voice barely audible. “I just want to ask you something.”

The blue eyes stared at him, guarded and wary.

“You know, with some relatives, there’s a strong family resemblance?”

A brief nod.

“So, I’m wondering if people tell you that you look like your brother.”

Another nod, a little shaky.

“If I tell you Patty’s okay, does that mean anything to you?”

There was a quick intake of breath, and the eyes blinked rapidly to keep tears from falling. He nodded. “Who are you?”

“Danny Phoenix. I work with Alex Hamilton. You’re Billy Hale, aren’t you?”

Another breath that was almost a gasp, and a quick nod. Billy looked around cautiously, but nobody seemed to be watching them. “Patty’s okay?”

“Patty’s okay, Ben’s okay, your mom’s okay.” Danny hesitated, not wanting to say any more.

“My dad’s gone, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“I knew – he was so sick when I was arrested. Mom’s okay, though?”

Danny nodded. “Herc keeps an eye on her, goes up to see her every few weeks.”

Billy blinked again.

“You have no idea … knowing that … maybe I won’t go insane here after all.”

“We won’t be staying here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Alex, John, Herc, Gil – they’ll get us out.”

“You’re crazy.”

“I’m working on helping them.”

“Completely crazy.”

“I want you to join my Bible study group.”

*          *          *          *          *

“It will just be three of us,” Tony said. “Me, Molly, and Jack Sullivan.”

“Recruitment that bad in Philly?”

“Ha, ha. It’s just that my other people are too new for an operation like this.”

“All right, that gives us ten total.”

“You sure you don’t want to call Ethan?”

Alex hesitated. “I like Ethan, don’t get me wrong. He’s good, but his people don’t always get along with one another. I don’t have to worry about that with your squad.”

Tony snorted. “Wait till you meet my new guy, Charlie. He has feelings.”

“That’s why you’re leaving him home?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

Alex laughed. “Okay, as soon as we have a plan, we’ll set up a meeting.”

He reported the information to Gil while they waited for Tim to get back from the Department of Public Safety. He’d been rebuffed by the local police station, and he now had an appointment with one of Loring’s aides. He was emphasizing as much as he could that Danny was a minor, a child who should not be housed with adult prisoners.

“Which we all know is a joke,” John said. “Danny’s smarter and more mature than any of us.”

Angelica raised an eyebrow at that, but nobody bothered arguing. Gil looked like he was about to say something, but his phone sounded, and he answered it. The conversation was short and in rapid French, and when it was done, he stood up. “That was Madame Gérard. She has invited me to dinner tonight.”

Alex smiled. “I’m sure you’ll have a very nice evening.”

“ _On espère_. I am going to my apartment now so that I’ll have time to change into a suit and stop and buy flowers for Madame Gérard. I’ll text you after dinner to get Tim’s information.”

As it turned out, Tim had no information. He had been asked the same questions he’d already answered, produced the same documents they’d already copied three times, and then told that he would have to wait for a response. He threw himself onto John’s couch. “I don’t even want to go home,” he said. “I can’t stand the quiet. I can’t … I can’t sleep.”

John sat down next to him. “Listen, Rev, you know Danny. You know he’s okay, wherever he is. He’s not sitting around crying; he’s probably already started to dig a tunnel.”

Tim smiled faintly. “I wouldn’t be at all surprised. If they would just tell me where he is. I’m sure that there’s a law that says they have to because he’s a minor, but Loring ignores any laws he wants to.”

“The thing is,” Jacob said, “until we know where Danny is, we can’t put together a detailed plan. I know Gil’s got an outline, but we’re going to need to know how many targets and where they are. We’ll need maps, maybe blueprints. Unless we have those …”

Alex nodded grimly. “Yeah. We’ll only get one shot at this. We have to get it right.”

Gil didn’t text after all. He turned up at the door just before midnight, wearing a perfectly tailored pale-gray suit, a snow-white shirt and a gray and rose striped tie.

“Damn,” Alex said, taking it all in. “You look good.”

Gil rolled his eyes, and John, right behind Alex, dragged him away from the door. “Really? Right in front of me like that?”

“It was just a comment,” Alex defended himself. He took a minute to kiss John thoroughly by way of an apology.

“Is Eliza here?” Gil asked, sitting down at the table.

“Not tonight,” Alex said. “Do you want me to call her?”

“No, actually, I don’t want this information to go any further. First things first.” He reached into an inside pocket and brought out a French passport blank, identical to the one they had used to give Patty a French identity. “Get busy on it right away,” he told John. “Do you have a current picture?”

“Yeah.” John took pictures whenever he had a chance, just in case he needed to forge a new identity on short notice, like now. “What about the name?”

“You can keep Daniel as the first name, it’s common in France.”

“ _Phénix_ as the last name?” Alex suggested.

Gil shook his head. “It’s a very unusual name, in French as well as English. People tend to remember unusual names. Maybe _Félice?_ ”

Alex nodded. “Similar enough that if he stumbles over it, nobody notices.”

“Exactly. He’ll need a couple of middle names, too.” Gil wrote the whole thing out neatly for John.

John read it and smiled. “He’ll like that.”

“I thought so.” Gil pushed his hair off his forehead and took a deep breath. “That’s the easy part. The hard part comes next. This is the information that absolutely cannot be shared. Lives could be at stake.”

“What are you talking about?” Alex asked, frowning.

“I’m late because I spent a couple of hours arguing with Monsieur and Madame Gérard. They wanted me to agree to return to France. It took a while for me to convince them that I wasn’t going. Monsieur Gérard made it clear to me that this was my last chance. At the end of the month, France will cut off diplomatic relations with this country, and the embassy will close. This is not being announced in advance because King could act to hold French citizens here as hostages or in some other way interfere with the safe travel of embassy personnel. They have already sent several people back to France, a few at a time, so there is only a skeleton staff now, spending most of their time shredding papers, but they must be careful not to reveal their plans. The breaking off of diplomatic relations will not be announced until the plane is safely in the air with Monsieur and Madame Gérard and the last few staff members on it. If all goes as we hope, Danny will also be on that plane.”

John held up his hand. “Wait – the end of the month?”

“Yes.”

“But that’s only two weeks.”

Gil nodded. “I know. But it’s all we have.”

*          *          *          *          *

“I need to write a letter,” Danny explained to the Greater just outside his cell. He’d chosen this one after careful study. He was young and sometimes seemed unsure of himself. According to the name patch on his uniform, his name was Cooper.

“Well go ahead, then,” he said now.

“I don’t have any paper or a pen.”

“Your family is supposed to supply those.”

“My family doesn’t know where I am. My dad would have been here by now.” He was referring to Tim as his dad to make himself seem younger. “Isn’t there some way you could get me some paper?”

Cooper shrugged. “I don’t know. Why is it so important?”

“I need to write to Director Loring. Oh, and probably Commissioner Howe also.”

Cooper looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “Right,” he muttered. “Why not President King, too?”

Danny considered that for a minute. “That’s not a bad idea, actually. It concerns him too, since it’s his job to defend the Constitution.”

“What are you, a jailhouse lawyer?”

“Of course not,” Danny said. “I’m only in tenth grade, but we learned about the Constitution in history class.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It says we all have the right to practice our religion.”

Cooper stared at him. “Nobody’s stopping you.”

“But I’ve been asking to start a Bible study group, and nobody will take me seriously. It’s very important to me to preach and teach the word of God. That’s part of practicing my religion.”

“You’re a preacher?”

Danny shrugged modestly. “Not yet, but my dad is. I’d hate for him to know that I wasn’t trying to help save souls in here.”

Cooper rubbed his forehead. “What are you in here for, kid?”

“Murder,” Danny told him, his face all wide-eyed innocence. “It’s a mistake, of course, and I know my dad must be doing everything he can to get me out. I just don’t want him to finally get in to see me and think that I’ve turned away from God.”

“Right,” Cooper responded. Religious nuts were the worst.

“So I thought if I could write some letters, explaining how important it was to me to study the Bible and teach it to others, maybe I could get the Bible study group going. It will probably be a small group, at least at first. We could even meet outside, during yard time. We’re all out there standing around doing nothing. Wouldn’t it be better if we were doing something positive? That way, too, women could be included in the group. We could sit near the fence so we could talk to one another, but there’d be no danger of anything … you know … going on between the men and the women.”

“You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you?”

Danny nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it since I got here. I know my dad will be talking to people in Director Loring’s office about it too. My dad never misses an opportunity to preach the word.” He stopped talking and bit down hard on the edge of his tongue, hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. He looked away as if he were embarrassed, then turned back to the Greater. “I don’t want to let my dad down, but even more than that, I don’t want to let the Lord down.”

Cooper rolled his eyes, but he said, “I’ll see what I can do.” It wouldn't be good, after all, if word got out that they wouldn't let this kid study the Bible. There was nothing like religion to get people riled up.

Danny paced out two miles in his cell, praying a silent litany of alternate apology and petition.

*          *          *          *          *

The Inner Circle was back in John and Alex’s apartment eating pizza. Gil was sitting on the end of the counter again. “We now have twelve days left, so we are making a plan that is not totally dependent on location. Tim has been to Loring’s office every day requesting information on Danny, but so far, they have told him nothing.” He glanced at Tim, who looked as if he hadn’t slept since Danny was taken, then went on. “First, we are going to start two different rumors. One will be that the Movement is planning to blow up the offices of the Department of Public Safety.”

“We’re going to blow up Loring’s office?” Angelica asked.

“We want people to think we are,” Gil corrected. “The other rumor is that we are going to assassinate Commissioner Howe himself.”

“Both of those are great ideas,” John said. “Why don’t we just do it?”

Gil sighed, “First, because we don’t really have the capability to mount those operations and we would probably all get killed, but second, and more important, really, that wouldn’t get Danny out.”

“Okay,” John agreed reluctantly, “but maybe later?”

“Maybe later. What we want is for Loring to concentrate his forces on the office building and on protecting Howe. Remember, too, that Commissioner Howe is often in the company of Lizzie Loring, so that means that Loring’s wife would also be in danger in the event of an attack on him.”

“How do we get these rumors going?” Eliza asked.

“Any way you can,” Gil responded. “Talk a little too loudly in a public place, then look around guiltily and lower your voice. Drop some coded papers here and there, especially some with, say, a diagram of Loring’s office. Alex has hacked into Howe’s calendar, so we’ll all write down his scheduled appearances and meetings for the next couple of weeks and then be sure that we accidentally leave those notes where they’ll be found.”

“What about some sort of scare tactic,” Jacob proposed, “like firecrackers going off when Howe is about to give a speech?”

Gil nodded. “That would be good, but you have to be very careful. We might risk our lives to save Danny, but not just to keep the Greaters off balance.”

“I can do that,” Jacob said. He looked at Angelica and grinned. “Long fuse.”

“Does that mean you can get explosives?” Alex asked Jacob.

“I think so. If not, I can get the ingredients and we can make them.”

“You know how to make explosives?” Herc inquired warily.

Jacob shrugged. “Anybody can make ANFO. Ammonium nitrate, fuel oil, a detonator, and you’re good to go.”

“Without, say, blowing up the apartment?”

“Probably.”

“Great.”

“I’m joking. If it comes to our having to mix our own explosives, there are a thousand half-burnt abandoned buildings in this city that we can use. It would be stupid to bring anything dangerous into the apartment.”

“Good point.” Gil said. “Can you scout locations and find one or two? We need a staging area too.”

“No problem.”

“All right, then” Gil continued, “that takes care of the deception part of our Mission. As for the distraction, as soon as we find our site, we’ll pick two targets, one fairly unimportant one that we will blow up with as much noise and fire as we possibly can. That’s the distraction. The real target will be an entry point where we will go in and get Danny out. We’re going to put seven people on the distraction and three on the entry point. Tim will be in an off-site location handling communication. I want every guard in whatever prison this is thinking they’re under attack and fighting back in the area of the explosion.”

“Who’s going to be where?” Eliza asked, her mouth dry.

“I don’t know yet,” Gil said. “Tony’s bringing his people up day after tomorrow. We’ll work it out then.”

*          *          *          *          *

Gil, Alex, and John spent a day with Tony, Jack, and Molly, reviewing the tentative plan that had to stay tentative until they knew where Danny was being held. Tim continued to visit the Department of Public Safety office every day. “Every fucking day,” he told Alex, which was an indication of his frustration.

The following day, Gil gave Alex and John his decision. “The three of us go in,” he said. “John and I are the best shots, Alex is the best at jamming electronics or thinking on his feet. Tony will be lead on the distraction point.”

Alex nodded, chewing his lip. “If we don’t get out, Angelica takes over.”

“Agreed. John?”

“Yeah, she’d do the best job. Jacob would help.”

“How long to be ready to go?” Alex asked.

“Three days from when we get the location.”

“We’re down to eight days before the embassy closes.”

“I know.”

Two days later, Tim turned up at the apartment at around four in the afternoon. John had a class, and Alex was there alone. Tim held out an envelope, his hand a little shaky. “I got a letter from Fran Manning,” he said. “Read it and tell me what you think.”

Alex took the envelope and sat down at the table to read it, Tim across from him, watching him steadily.

 _Dear Tim,_ Fran had written. _Thank you so much for the Bible you brought me. It gave me such a message of comfort and hope that I was crying for joy. I can never tell you how much it meant to me._

_I want to tell you how much the Bible has been helping me here. We have a Bible study group now, and I’ve learned so much in it, especially from the Book of Daniel. It seems as though every day, Daniel has a new message of courage, not just for me, but for others here as well, since our group leader is sharing it with all of us. Daniel is a real source of strength. My favorite verse is Daniel 6:22a._

_Thank you again for everything, Tim. If you ever need help, I know that you too can count on the Book of Daniel._

_Yours in peace and hope,_

_Frances Manning_

_P.S. Believing is loving, like you. Hug and love everyone in sympathy, help everyone, relieve everyone._

Alex looked up; it seemed obvious, but he was afraid to jump to conclusions. “Refresh my memory about the Book of Daniel. That’s the guy thrown into the lions’ den, right?”

“Right, but the Lord protected him, and he was safe. Basically, the Book of Daniel is a book of prophecy, interpretation of dreams, and people of the Lord being falsely accused but protected from punishment.”

“Falsely accused?”

“Yeah, not just Daniel in the lions’ den, but Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego cast into the fiery furnace …”

“But they didn’t burn. I remember now.” He looked back at the letter. “She repeats the name Daniel over and over.”

“Right.”

 _“Every day, Daniel has a new message of courage._ It sure sounds like him. You think he might be the group leader she talks about?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“What’s Daniel 6:22a?”

Tim couldn’t hide his grin. “I’m so glad you asked. Daniel 6:22a says, _My God hath sent his angel.”_

Alex started laughing. “Oh, that kid is a genius, Tim. He’s just told us he’s in the same prison as Fran Manning.”

Tim blinked back tears. “It seemed so obvious that I was almost afraid it could be a trap, but the angel verse proves it’s really him. Nobody but us would understand that.”

Alex rubbed his eyes and looked up at the angel picture. _Thanks, Gabriel._

Tim turned back to the letter, reading it over again. “Look at the P.S. Does it seem weird to you?”

Alex reread it. “Yeah. I mean, it sort of makes sense, but the sentences are odd. Besides, why would she add it? The whole purpose of the letter is to let us know Danny’s there, and that’s done in the body of the letter. Why the P.S.?”

“Let’s assume Danny told her to add it.”

“I think that’s a given. Loving, love, hug, help, relieve … _relieve_ is a strange word choice there.”

“Maybe she means something like relieve people’s suffering?”

“Yeah, but nobody says it that way … _love everyone in sympathy_ is weird too.” Alex frowned, biting his lip, then went to the desk to grab a pen and a piece of paper. He started scribbling, crossed something out, scribbled some more and began to laugh again. “It’s code, Tim. It’s the simplest code in the world, I used it in sixth grade. Look what else Danny is telling us. It’s the best news we’ve heard in a while.” He turned the paper so Tim could see what he’d written.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty smart of Danny to get Fran to write that letter, right? Did you crack the code in the P.S.? Let me know!  
> It turned out to be quite convenient that there is an Old Testament book named Daniel. Pure coincidence, but there are some interesting, almost spooky, coincidences with the historical Daniel Phoenix and this character. I can't tell you about them yet, but I will when I can.  
> We have five days to get everything done, execute the plan, and get Danny on the plane.  
> By the way, be glad Crazy Tony didn't bring his new guy, Charlie. You'll meet him later, but you probably won't like him. Nobody does.  
> Thank you all so much for kudos and comments. I love hearing what you have to say about this story.


	75. I Imagine Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Movement members prepare for a dangerous, complicated Mission. The odds are not in their favor. In the last few hours before the Mission, they all deal with the possibility that things may not go well.

The next day, they took the Kia and the Acura into Elizabeth, New Jersey, to examine the detention center. Jacob rode with Alex in the Kia, and Gil with John in the Acura. They parked the Kia in a busy Walmart parking lot a few miles away and the four of them went in John’s car. Alex drove while John took pictures unobtrusively and Jacob made notes of what the walls were made of. It was an old building and had been added to several times. Most of it looked like concrete block construction, but some of the older part was brick.

“Brick’s easier to break,” Jacob said.

“That’s fine if the brick part is near where Danny is, but if he’s on the other side of the building, it’s not so helpful,” Gil told him.

“That might be a good area for the distraction, though,” Jacob pointed out. “We can do a lot of damage.”

Alex drove on past the prison and made the next left by what looked like an abandoned warehouse. “I can’t believe this prison is right here in the city,” Alex said. “There are hiding places all around. What were they thinking?”

“It’s not actually a prison,” John responded. “It’s a detention center. It was never intended to hold dangerous criminals, only refugees and immigrants while they were waiting to be cleared for entry. It’s just that King’s Greaters have filled up all the prisons, and so they have to use facilities like this. This whole area used to be an industrial park, but now a lot of the buildings are empty.”

Alex looked around. A few of the buildings were taller than the prison. “A detention center wouldn’t be as heavily fortified as a prison, would it?”

“Correct,” John replied, “But don’t forget they might have made alterations that we can’t see.”

“That is true,” Gil said, “but we are still better off here that in a more secure prison that is set apart from other buildings. All these buildings, too, they produce echoes. It will make it much harder to determine where the gunfire is coming from.” He was silent for a minute, and then he tapped Alex on the shoulder. “Did Tim send the letter to Fran?”

Alex smiled. “Yes, he dated it carefully and told her to read Genesis 1:13.”

“Which says?”

_“And the evening and the morning were the third day.”_

“So Danny will know we’re coming in three days from the date of the letter.”

“That’s the idea.”

They circled the detention center once more, as slowly as they could without being obvious, and then Alex drove back to the parking lot. They transferred to the Kia and came back to where they had been, this time focusing on the surrounding buildings. Jacob drove while John sketched a rough map, Alex snapped more pictures, and Gil looked for well-placed sniper positions.

“What do you think?” Alex asked him.

Gil was gazing at something far away, but he nodded thoughtfully. “We can do this.”

*          *          *          *          *

Back at the apartment, John reviewed his pictures and sketches, and made a detailed map of the prison and the surrounding two blocks. There were only four guard towers, one at each corner of the perimeter fence.

“If we’re precise with the timing,” Gil said, “we can take out all four guards simultaneously. Then we can walk in.”

“We’ll need heavy-duty wire cutters,” Jacob told him.

“Of course. Make a list of tools and supplies, and tell me how much money you need.”

John looked up from his map. “We really need a blueprint of the building. We want to go in near the prisoners’ cells.”

Gil nodded. “Where would we find that?”

Alex looked at Jacob. “It would have to be on file with the city, right?”

“Probably. Most cities require that plans of all public buildings be on file in case of emergency.”

“Would that part of the data base be accessible by the public?”

“Probably not, but it would be by police, fire, or medical facilities.”

“Medical facilities?” Gil asked alertly.

Jacob nodded. “Emergency medical services definitely, I’m not sure about hospitals.”

“But if I know how to get into a hospital’s data base, I could access the emergency medical services from there, can’t I?”

“Yeah, they have to have a connection.”

Gil took a piece of paper from John’s notebook and wrote something in it. “Here,” he said, handing it to Alex. “This is the sign-in information for the admitting desk at St. Luke’s. The user name and password are for Michael Vincent, an administrator that does not exist. I made up the identity when I was working there, just in case we ever needed to get anyone’s medical records.”

“That was … uh, farsighted of you.”

Gil shrugged. “One never knows. You can sign in as Michael Vincent and, I hope, connect to the emergency medical services data base, and then find us a floor plan of the prison. You should probably start on it now because we go in day after tomorrow.”

Alex opened his laptop.

*          *          *          *          *

The building Jacob and Angelica were in had burned, but the fire had been extinguished before much structural damage had been done. The intact walls shielded them from view, and plywood had been nailed over the doors and windows. There was a back window where the nails had been removed from one sheet of plywood and it was now kept in place by two hooks in the window frame. As long as there wasn’t a strong wind, it wasn’t easily detectable. They worked on mixing the fertilizer and the diesel fuel.

Gil sent Herc out to buy the cheapest used car he could from Craigslist. Herc used a fake ID especially created for the job, one that would be destroyed immediately once he’d purchased the car. He and Eliza drove Alex’s Kia to a sketchy neighborhood in the south end of Newark. He paid cash for the car, an ancient Ford Escort, and got a copy of the title, which he had no reason to believe was valid. Eliza drove the Kia back to the apartment, and Herc drove the Escort to the building where Jacob and Angelica were working. It had a driveway, which was one of the reasons Jacob had selected it, and Herc pulled the Escort all the way to the back, then changed out the license plates for another set that John had given him. He wrapped the original plates in a grocery bag, walked about five blocks north, and dropped them into a trash bin in front of a convenience store before taking the bus home.

It took a while, but Alex got into the city emergency services data base and began searching for the blueprints of the detention center. There were hundreds of files, many of them mislabeled or labeled with cryptic number combinations that didn’t seem to mean anything. His eyes were burning from staring at a screen, and he was drinking way too much coffee, but John was too busy to deal with him. He and Gil were poring over the map he’d drawn, choosing the best positions for the four snipers – John, Gil, Angelica, and Tony – who were to take out the perimeter guards at the exact same instant. One miss would mean disaster. Alex got another cup of coffee, rubbed his eyes, and opened another file. He blinked at it a couple of times and then zoomed in. “Milbourne Street, right?” he asked nobody in particular. There was no response, so he tried again, louder. “Yo, Gil, the detention center is on Milbourne Street, isn’t it?”

Gil finally looked up. “Yes, 300 Milbourne Street.”

Alex grinned. “Then I’ve got your blueprints.”

Tony, Jack, and Molly got there in the evening. By then, John had printed out area maps and blueprints for everybody. They ate pizza, trying to act like it was a normal night, as they studied the papers.

Gil was sitting on the counter again. “Timing is everything on this,” he said. “We are vastly outnumbered, so everything is timed to the second to give us the advantage of surprise. The perimeter guards change at midnight. By eleven o’clock, we are all in position. John, Tony, Angelica, and I are here, here, here, and here.” He pointed to the map. “At the end of the shift, the guards are less likely to be alert, so at eleven-forty, we take them out. We can’t be sure if the sound of shots will alert anyone, but, first, it’s a bad neighborhood, so gunfire may occur often enough that no one pays attention; second, the concrete block walls of the prison will muffle the sound.” He looked from John to Tony to Angelica. “We get one shot. If any of the perimeter guards survives long enough to make a call or push a panic button, it’s over.” They nodded. They’d all been practicing at shooting ranges or out in the woods somewhere.

“Once the guards are down, John, Tony, and I will move. Angelica stays in the sniper position throughout the operation to take out any Greater she can.” He gave Angelica a brief smile. “The reflection off their gold braid might help your aim. In the meantime, Eliza, Jack and Herc are over here.” He pointed to a location near the perimeter fence where there was a small brick structure that might once have been a gatehouse. “Hopefully, they’ll be pretty well concealed by this wall, but we took the precaution of disabling the streetlights early this morning. Alex hacked the city services data base and eliminated electrical service to the lights. Quieter and much more effective that shooting out the lightbulbs, because it will take a while to figure out. They’ll have the wire cutters, and they will immediately go for this section of the fence. Jacob will be waiting over here.” He indicated a parking area almost directly across from the gatehouse. “The minute there’s enough of an opening to get the Ford in, he’ll drive through and get as close to the building as possible. Then he’ll jump out of the car, run as fast as he can, and set off the detonator.” He picked up the building plans and pointed. “That’s our distraction point. It’s the office block, so if we’re lucky, we’ll take out their communications and their records. If we’re really lucky, we’ll also take out whoever’s in charge at night. No matter what, though, this is where we want to keep most of the action, so if you can get into the building, get in, and shoot anything in uniform.”

He stopped talking for a minute and looked over their heads. “I know Alex has told you all what the rationale is behind mounting this kind of an operation when the odds are not exactly in our favor. We’re trying to get Danny out because he’s young and smart, and if we aren’t able to bring down King, he can lead another action five years or ten years from now. Since we’re going in anyway, we’re going to be sure to bring out Fran Manning and Billy Hale. If we can free anybody else without wasting time, we will. King’s enemies are our friends. If some of us or most of us don’t come back from this, I’ll tell you now that taped to the bottom of the top dresser drawer in the bedroom here is an envelope with ID papers for Danny, Fran, and Billy. Danny is to go to Monsieur Conrad Gérard at the French embassy. Both Monsieur Gérard and his wife Mariette know the plan. Don’t talk to anybody else. Fran is going to Tennessee to stay with Danny’s mother and aunt. Their information is also in the envelope. Billy Hale will join Ethan’s group in Boston. His mother is already there, under a new identity as Eddie Ogden’s aunt. John and Alex have worked nonstop creating backstories and documents for all this in a very short time, but based on past experience, nobody will question their authenticity.”

There was an uncomfortable silence, then Tony asked, “What do you think the odds are?”

Gil’s smile was a little twisted. “That we execute the Mission as planned and that we all get back here uninjured? Less than fifty-fifty. You can extrapolate from there. But we go in aiming for a hundred percent success.”

They all knew that there were no guarantees. Gil went on. “While most of you are entering through the distraction point, John and I will have met up with Alex over here, at this door. This leads into the visitors’ area, so it’s not as heavily secured as most of the other doors. Jacob thinks we can blow the door off with the small amount of C-4 that he has given me, so I am hoping he knows what he’s talking about.”

“Where the hell did you get C-4?” Jack Sullivan asked Jacob.

Jacob shrugged. “Gil says you don’t need to know, but I spent some time in the Army, and I still have friends.”

Alex looked at Gil, who nodded, then said, “I might as well tell you all now that when this operation is over, both Tim and Jacob will be reporting to Headquarters to work with the General and his staff. Tim will be organizing and training a new corps of chaplains for the Movement. Jacob will be advising on munitions. Tim would have to go underground anyway because of his close connection with Danny. I tried to convince the General to let Jacob stay with us a little longer, but I had to defer to my commanding officer.” He deliberately didn’t look at Angelica. She’d known for a few days now, and seemed to be handling it pretty well, but you could never tell with Angelica.

Gil returned to the plan. “John, Alex, and I will go through the visitors’ area, through this secure door, possibly with the aid of more C-4, and from there straight into the cell block. We anticipate that there will be many guards there, although we know that we were successful with our rumors of a possible attack The Department of Public Safety or on Commissioner Howe himself. The Commissioner’s security staff has doubled, and there are many more guards at the main office. In addition, I hope that guards will leave the cell block when the distraction point blows up.”

“How will you open the cells?” Molly asked.

“We don’t know yet. If we can get a key from the guards, we will. If the locks are electronic, controlled from a central switch, we will force a guard to open them, or we may need to shoot them out. We don’t have any information, so we’ll improvise. By the time we are releasing prisoners, some of you may be coming through from the distraction point.” He turned to Angelica. “It’s going to be very hard on you, being alone. You won’t know what’s going on in the building, but no matter what happens, you have the best chance of getting out.”

She nodded. Alex had told her that she’d be in charge. She knew what to do.

Gil took a breath. “Throughout the operation, communication will go through Tim, who will be here. You’ve all got the number of his secure phone. Call him, he’ll get the word to whoever it has to get to. When it’s done, we regroup here before the next phase. Then I’ll take Danny to the embassy. Herc will drive Billy Hale to Boston in John’s car, and Alex will take Tim, Jacob, and Fran to Headquarters in the Kia. The General has arranged to have someone drive Fran to Tennessee. Tony, Jack, and Molly will go straight back to Philadelphia in Tony’s car. If we go in at midnight, everybody should be on their way before six in the morning. Any questions?”

There were none. They all knew their assigned roles.

“Then everybody get plenty of rest and meet back here at nine o’clock tomorrow night.”

*          *          *          *          *

Jacob’s apartment barely deserved to be called that. It was in the basement of one of his sister’s friends, a ten foot by twelve foot room with a microwave and a mini fridge, and a bathroom so small that when you opened the door, it hit the sink. Still, it wasn’t the worst place he’d ever stayed, and it provided privacy. He’d been embarrassed the first time he’d brought Angelica there, but it hadn’t bothered her in the least.

“Do you seriously think I’m the sort of person who cares about square footage?” she had asked him. After that, it had gotten easier. Now they were spending what might be their last hours alone together for a long time.

“We’re not going to talk about fighting and dying,” Angelica said. “We’re going to spend today being as alive as we can.” She set her tote bag on the small table that held the microwave.

Jacob watched her, smiling. Angelica Schuyler of the Albany Schuylers, the oldest of the much-admired Schuyler sisters. God, she was beautiful. Beautiful, smart, self-assured, and tough. He’d seen her take on Alex Hamilton, and he’d seen her use a gun, and he was pretty well convinced that there was nothing she couldn’t do. He still wasn’t sure why she hadn’t slapped his face the first time he’d kissed her; instead, she’d kissed him back with interest, her hand on his neck and her hips grinding forward until he was the one who had pulled away gasping.

She was taking things out of the bag and putting them on the table.

“Is that _champagne?_ ” he asked, astonished.

“Mm-hmm. Allison Burns went shopping this morning.” That explained her stylish outfit and careful make-up. “Just a demie of champagne, though, because we need to be clear-headed tonight.”

The small bottle of champagne was followed by assorted small fancy sandwiches and a container of chocolate-covered strawberries. Jacob laughed as he poured the champagne into coffee mugs and put the sandwiches on paper plates. “Sorry,” he said. “The good dishes are out being cleaned.”

She sipped the champagne and smiled at him. “This tastes just fine.”

They drank the champagne and ate the sandwiches and made out in between bites, and then Angelica said, “Let’s save the strawberries for later.” She turned her back to him and held her hair up so he could unzip the coral linen dress. He kissed the nape of her neck as he did it, then slid his hands along her shoulders to push the dress off, and she stepped out of it. She laid it over the arm of the only chair and turned to face him, wearing a bra and panties in a pale peach color that made her skin glow, and a pair of sandals with extra-high heels. She was gorgeous and she knew it.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and held out his arms.

*          *          *          *          *

Ernie Weathers had seen a lot in his seventy-eight years. As a kid, he’d marched for civil rights with his father and once he’d even heard Dr. King speak. He’d learned then that freedom was hard to win and harder still to hold onto. He listened thoughtfully to everything Tim had to say.

“I don’t know what you’re not telling me, son,” he said, “but I know that whatever you’re doing, the Lord will be with you.”

Tim had spent much of the day praying about his own role in the planned operation, trying to find the way through it all to a greater good.

“Do you believe the end justifies the means?” he asked Mr. Weathers.

The old man smiled. “That’s one of those trick questions. It depends on what the end is and what the means are – and even then, the only answer is ‘sometimes’.”

Tim shook his head. “I guess what I’m trying to figure out is if violence is ever justified.”

“David slew Goliath,” Mr. Weathers said. “The Lord called Gideon a mighty warrior; Joshua led armies.”

“True, but I don’t see myself in any of those roles.”

“Maybe you should ask yourself if there’s any other way to achieve what it is you want to achieve.”

“No,” Tim said, “there’s not.”

“And what will happen if no action is taken?”

Tim’s face was bleak. “Good, innocent people will die.”

Mr. Weathers nodded, leaning back in his chair. He didn’t offer any advice or platitudes, just waited silently.

After a while, Tim looked at him directly. “Mr. Weathers, I won’t be back after tonight. I can’t tell you any more than that, but I’m asking you to do what you think best for the church. All of the books and financial records are in the office. Nothing is locked. The finances are solid after the generous gift we got last year, and you should be able to hire another pastor.”

Ernie Weathers held out his hand. “I’ll pray for you every day, and for young Danny, too. I’ll pray for this endeavor of yours, whatever it may be. I know things are going badly, and I don’t know how much longer I’ll be around, but I hope that I live long enough to see justice return. If I don’t see you again – well, go with God.”

*          *          *          *          *

Gil had taken Caitlin to lunch at a very nice restaurant, and they had come back to her apartment afterward. They were in Caitlin’s bed in her lovely pale-green bedroom. Gil was relaxed, which had been his goal; he had a busy night ahead, so it had been good to release some of the tension now. He had his arm around Caitlin, running his fingers through her hair. She was pretty, and she was very good in bed, but he was beginning to find himself bored when he was with her anywhere else. She ran her fingernails lightly down his chest, and he wondered whether being bored might be a small price to pay for the pleasure – literally – of her company.

“Why did you leave such a gigantic tip?” she asked casually.

Gil went very still. “How do you know what tip I left?”

Caitlin giggled. “I looked. When you went to the rest room, I just opened the folder and looked.”

“Why?” Gil’s voice was expressionless.

“I don’t know, just curious, I guess. It’s no big deal, but really, more than fifty percent? No waitress deserves fifty percent.”

Gil sat up on the side of the bed, picked up his boxers off the floor and pulled them on. The waitress had probably been in her fifties, thin, tired-looking, trying to take care of too many tables during the lunch hour. Her shoes were shabby and cracked, and her hands were rough, as if she used harsh detergents and didn’t have lotion or hand cream. She was undoubtedly a Deplo, and he wondered what her life had been like before King. Did she have a family to support? Was she getting enough to eat? How could she be on her feet all day with those cheap, worn-out shoes? He’d tipped her a hundred dollars on a hundred and eighty dollar lunch tab. Maybe she’d be able to buy shoes. He stood up, put on his pants, shirt and shoes, rolled up his tie and shoved it into his pocket.

Caitlin was sitting up in bed, astonished, clutching the sheet to her. “What the hell is the matter with you?” she asked him.

He turned to her, his face like ice. “Who are you to decide what people deserve?”

She gave him a playful smile. “Come on, Gil, she was just a waitress. If she wanted to do better for herself, she would.”

His fury rose as he thought of Caitlin’s family with their millions, of his own money piling up in the bank because he couldn’t get rid of it fast enough. “I should have given her more,” he said, as much to himself as to Caitlin.

Caitlin laughed, and it took all the strength he had not to hit her. He glanced around the room to be sure he had all his belongings, then turned back to the girl he had made love with only a short time before. “We will not be seeing one another again,” he told her.

“ _What?_ What are you talking about? Are you mad because I looked at the receipt? Jesus, Gil, that’s crazy.”

He didn’t answer. _Just a waitress._ As if working that job somehow made her less worthy of a decent life than he and Caitlin were.

“Gil? _Gil!_ Answer me …”

 He closed the door behind him.

*          *          *          *          *

“You have contact information for Alex and John, right?” Herc asked Carter.

Carter nodded. “Yeah, and whatsername, the Schuyler girl.”

“Yeah, so if you don’t hear from me, you talk to one of them about the van.”

Carter kept his gaze level. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

Herc shook his head. “Can’t.”

Carter had known Herc and his family for a long time. “Your mama know?” he asked.

Herc shrugged. “Some of it. I can’t … we work on a need-to-know basis, and my mom doesn’t need to know all of it.”

“You’re mixed up in some serious shit, aren’t you?”

Herc flashed him a smile. “Depends on what you call serious.”

“For starters, I’d call a van full of guns serious, but hey, I’m just providing storage space.”

“And we appreciate that.”

“No lie now, Herc, you guys think you’re going to change the government?”

“No lie? Yeah, probably, but not today. Today we just need to take care of some business.”

*          *          *          *          *

Alex had checked everything fifty times, going back over the map to be sure nothing had been forgotten, until John looked at Eliza over his head and raised his eyebrow questioningly. She nodded, and John stood behind Alex’s chair and leaned forward, putting his arms around him and taking the pen out of his hand. _“Basta, mi amor,”_ he said. “You need to rest.”

“Just one more thing,” Alex began, reaching for the pen.

“No,” Eliza told him. “It’s four o’clock. The alarm is set for eight-thirty, and I know you barely slept last night. If you don’t get a couple of hours of sleep now, you’ll be useless tonight.”

Alex bristled at the word _useless_ , but John shut him up with a kiss and pulled him out of the chair. “Let’s go to bed.”

They put Alex in the middle and held him in place. Eliza began kissing his neck. “You are so tense, babe,” she whispered, her lips right below his ear.

“Mm,” Alex managed to say as Eliza ran her teeth over his earlobe.

“Sh,” John told him. “Don’t talk. Just relax.” He ran his fingertips down Alex’s chest, then over his hip, as Eliza pressed closer to his back.

Alex closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “That’s it, _querido,”_ John murmured, and took Alex in his hand, stroking him lightly. Alex threw his head back and Eliza slipped her leg over his hip, rubbing herself against him.

“That’s pretty,” John said, his touch becoming a little firmer. He knelt between Alex’s legs and put his other hand on Eliza’s ass, giving her a little more pressure against Alex. She sighed and leaned in to kiss Alex, her tongue sliding between his lips. His mouth was soft and warm, and hungry for her. John got serious with his hand, and Alex began whimpering against Eliza’s mouth.

“Is that good, baby?” she murmured, her lips on his. “Do you like the way that feels? Yeah, I love the way John touches me, too. He’s so good with his hands …” She broke away for a minute to watch John. “Oh, God, that’s so hot.” Alex was clutching the sheet, twisting it in his hands. She disentangled one hand and put it between her legs, and Alex gasped, sliding his fingers into her. She ground down on his hand, and that was enough to push him over. He lay there panting for a few minutes, coming down, while Eliza nuzzled his neck and licked his ear. John got a washcloth and cleaned them up, then kissed Alex on the cheek.

“You feel a little less tense now, _mi amor?”_ he asked.

Alex smiled and looked at him from under his long eyelashes. “Yeah, but I got a beautiful girl here who really needs you.” He still had two fingers inside her, just playing, making her want more.

“Yeah?” John reached across Alex, slid one arm under Eliza, the other one around her waist, and pulled her over Alex so that she was lying on top of him. “Hello, beautiful girl,” he said, and kissed her.

God, she loved the way John kissed, all soft, slippery tongue and mobile lips, and then maybe a little scrape of sharp teeth. “Does Alex want to watch?” she asked, looking at John, not Alex.

John smiled, and pushed his tumbled curls off his face. “Alex always wants to watch.” He nudged Alex with his foot. “Move over and give us some room.”

Alex got himself out of the way and lay on his side, propped up on his elbow for the best view. “What are you going to do?” he asked, his eyes bright with interest.

John smiled at Eliza, his eyebrow up, and then turned his head to answer Alex. “We’re going to fuck, Alex, and if you want to watch, you’re going to shut up.”

Alex nodded, and was obediently silent for once, and John pulled Eliza’s head down for another kiss. She rubbed herself against him, and he reached down, sliding his fingers in and out, back and forth. She was already wet and slippery from Alex playing with her, and she got up on her knees and straddled John. She slid down onto him as slowly as she could, and he let out a long, sighing breath. “Oh, that’s it, darlin’,” he murmured as she began to move.

She leaned forward to get the angle right, and he kept his thumb on her clit, while his other hand stroked her, her breasts, her belly, her back, feeling how soft and smooth her skin was, teasing all the nerve endings. She could feel the electricity gathering, and she arched up, moving her hips faster, pushing to get John as deep inside her as she could. He was breathing as if he’d run a mile, and then he grabbed her waist, held her in place as he slammed up into her so hard that the flicker of pain pushed her over the edge, and she felt like she was flying.

A little while later, she was in the middle, lying on her side, one arm and one leg wrapped around Alex, John spooned tight against her back with his face on her neck and his curls spilling over her shoulder. The alarm was set for eight-thirty, and they all needed sleep. She closed her mind to any possibility that they might never be together like this again and reminded herself how lucky they were. She thought back to that weekend when she and Alex had gone to Philadelphia, the first time they had kissed, when she had been so troubled, knowing she loved Alex, convincing herself she loved John only as a friend. She felt sorry for that past Eliza because it had all been so simple in the end. _This is ours,_ she thought as she fell asleep. _No one can ever take away what we’ve had._

*          *          *          *          *

Jacob drove the old Ford into the parking area across from the unused gatehouse, positioning it so that all he would have to do was slam the accelerator to the floor and go straight, once the fence was cut. A matter of seconds. Then jump, detonate, run.

Eliza, Jack, and Herc were around the corner in John’s car, ready to take position in the shadow of the gatehouse at eleven thirty. Jacob would need an opening six feet across and four and a half feet high. They couldn’t start until the snipers took out the perimeter guards, so they had to do it in seconds, starting in the center, Eliza cutting straight up, Herc and Jack going diagonally. Jack had a flashlight to signal Jacob when it was complete.

Gil had brought John, Tony, and Angelica with him and parked the car a few blocks away. They had ordinary-looking duffle bags, and one by one, they had left the car and gotten into position on rooftops of nearby buildings, settling in, checking their targets.

Alex and Molly were parked a block north on the opposite side of the detention center from the distraction point. Once the guards were down, Molly would join the others and Alex, Gil, and John would go in to find Danny.  

Gil sent a group text: _Com check._ They all responded so he knew the phones were working. A few minutes later they got a similar message from Tim. There shouldn’t be any change in orders, but if there was, it would come from Gil. Problems, delays, or failures were to be reported to Tim.

At eleven-thirty, Gil texted: _T-10. Good luck. See you on the other side._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While there is a detention center in Elizabeth, New Jersey, and while it is indeed a grim, ugly building, I have modified its description to fit my story, and have not given its actual address. There is no Milbourne Street in Elizabeth.  
> Here's hoping the Mission goes well.


	76. My Friends All Scattered to the Winds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gil's plan is put into action. A lot changes. Eliza has kept something to herself. John has secrets. Danny prepares to take on a new identity in all ways, but he has unexpected support.

Danny stared at his Bible, reading Genesis 1:13 again. _And the evening and the morning were the third day._ Evening, then morning. They’d come in at night, and it would last until morning. Probably not much before midnight, then. He didn’t have a phone or a watch, but lights-out was at ten, and it had been dark for a while; the only illumination during the night was a single ceiling fixture at the end of the corridor. He knew this place hadn’t been built as a prison. Extra security had been added, but not everything had been updated, the lighting being an example. He had a pretty good idea now of what the floor plan of this wing was. There was a door under the light at the end of the hall, so anyone entering would be clearly visible, while the Greaters coming in from the opposite direction would be in semi-darkness. That wasn’t good. He needed to get them to turn the lights on, but he had to get the timing right.

What would their plan be? Alex would be in charge, but he would have discussed it with John and Gil, as always. There were only half a dozen of them, so they couldn’t come in with guns blazing. It was much more likely to be a stealth action. They’d eliminate the outside guards first; Gil and John could do that easily. Then they’d come in. Could Alex get through the security doors? They must have some plan for that – okay, through the doors and then into the cell block and under the light. That’s where he could help.

No matter what their plan was, there’d be shots outside first. He’d have to listen carefully. The concrete walls would muffle the sound, but he’d hear it. He lay very still on his bunk, listening.

*          *          *          *          *

 At eleven-forty, four shots were fired simultaneously. All hit their targets. Danny, lying silently in his cell, barely heard them, but nothing else sounds like gunfire. He jumped up and ran to the door of the cell, banging on it and shouting. “Yo, I need help! Somebody help me!”

As had been pre-arranged, Billy Hale started a similar uproar in his cell at the other end of the corridor.

Cutting the wire fence took longer than anticipated, but that gave Tony, Molly, Gil, and John time to get into position, and there was no sign that anyone realized that the guards were down.

Jacob drove the ANFO-loaded Ford through the hole in the fence and crashed it into the brick wall. He jumped out, yelling, “Cover!” and ran to shelter with the others behind the gatehouse. He pulled out his phone and dialed the number Alex had given him, activating the detonator. There was a deafening blast, the ground shook, and a fireball blazed toward the sky. Jacob grinned in satisfaction. “It worked.”

There was a fifteen foot hole where the brick wall had been, and debris scattered across the concrete pavement. Alarms inside the building were going off. “Let’s go,” Tony said, and led them in, guns ready. It looked like at least two Greaters had been killed in the explosion; there might be more under the rubble, but the ones he saw weren’t going to give them any trouble, so he turned the handle of the door that led into the hall and kicked it open, staying behind the wall. He heard shouting, but at a distance, went into the hall and checked in both directions. “Clear!”

*          *          *          *          *

As soon as Alex heard the explosion on the other side of the building, he stuck the C-4 onto the door lock, set the fuse and stepped away. Jacob had been right. The C-4 blew out the whole lock assembly, and the door opened.

“We need to get more of that stuff,” John said.

The visitors’ check-in area and the visitors’ room itself were dark and empty, but alarms were screeching. They heard shots, but with the noise of the alarms, it was hard to tell where they were coming from. Alex used C-4 on the secure door between the visitors’ area and the hallway to the cell block and opened the door carefully. There was no one in the hall, and he had a moment of satisfaction that their distraction was working. They were in. There were two floors of cell blocks, but they didn’t know where Danny was.

“Upstairs first,” Gil directed, “then back down the stairs and out.”

Just as they were about to advance, they heard Greaters clattering down the stairs at the end of the hall, racing toward the explosion. They edged toward the stairway, staying close to the wall, out of sight of the running guards. Shots were being fired in the office wing, and then there were only a few Greaters left on the stairs. “Open fire,” Gil told them, and all three of the Greaters on the stairs, their attention completely focused in the wrong direction, went down.

“How many guards do you think on the cell block?” Alex asked.

Gil shrugged. “Maybe twenty? We’ll find out.” They went up the stairs and John and Alex each pushed a door open, as Gil took point, and they all fired as they went in.

They heard Danny yell, “Down!” and the prisoners in their orange jumpsuits dropped to the floor of their cells, while guards whirled around to face the intruders.

“Drop your guns! Hands on your heads!” Alex yelled, but the Greaters began firing. They were armed with pistols only, and four of them were dead on the floor before anybody decided to follow Alex’s orders.

John grabbed the first one who did, twisted his arm behind his back, put a gun to his head, and ordered, “Open the cells.”

Gil and Alex left him to it, and continued kicking guns away and securing the Greaters with zip ties.

The Greater was young and shaking with fear. “I … I can’t,” he mumbled.

John twisted his arm harder. “I can dislocate your shoulder if that will help,” he said, “but it’ll be easier if I don’t have to.”

“Keypad,” the guard whimpered, “by the door.”

John glanced toward the door and dragged the Greater with him. “Key it in,” he directed.

The Greater was crying. “I’ll … I’ll get fired.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” John snapped, losing patience. He shoved the guard to the floor, put his foot on his back, and gave his arm a final vicious twist that tore the bone out of the socket and left the Greater screaming in pain.

“Yo, Gil!” John yelled. “You got somebody who can give us the key code?”

About five of the Greaters who were tied with zip ties, seeing their colleague writhing on the floor in agony, volunteered. Gil sent one over. His eyes were wide with fear.

“What’s the code?” John asked.

“Three seven two five star nine,” the guard responded, his voice shaking.

John punched in the numbers, and the cell doors slid open as if by magic.

“You’re all free to go,” Alex announced, and the prisoners began to exit their cells, at first tentatively, then faster.

“About fucking time you guys got here,” said a familiar voice, and there was Danny, grinning at them. Gil tossed him a gun and a couple of clips, which he shoved into the front of his jumpsuit. He pulled another prisoner forward. “Y’all remember Billy Hale, right?”

“Sure,” Alex said, grabbing Billy’s arm. “Can you shoot?”

“Hell, yeah,” Billy told him, and Alex handed him a gun and ammunition.

Gil looked around. All the Greaters – there had been about a dozen of them – were dead or secured with Zip ties, except for the one John had dealt with, who was out of commission for other reasons. Just to be on the safe side, Gil ordered them all into the cells.

Danny watched curiously as a couple of guards helped the injured one up, and pushed him, still moaning and sobbing, into a cell. He turned to John. “What’d you do to Cooper?”

John rolled his eyes. “Dislocated his shoulder. How’d you know it was me?”

Danny laughed. “Alex or Gil would have shot him. Gil would have killed him.”

“Yeah.” John shook his head. “He’s such a crybaby. A few weeks in a brace and he’ll be fine.”

The door behind John flew open and four Greaters burst in, guns blazing. John yelled, “Fuck!” and fell forward, blood forming a pool by his head. They rest of them took all of the Greaters down almost instantly, and then Alex was on his knees next to John, his hands on John’s head, John’s blood running over his fingers.

*          *          *          *          *

There was a firefight by the office. Tony took point, Herc and Eliza behind him, as they entered the corridor, badly outnumbered by guards coming from other parts of the building. Fortunately the corridor wasn’t wide enough for more than four or five, so they fired at the first row, then ducked back into what was left of the office, firing through the closed door. Most of the wall between the main office and an adjoining conference room had been blown out, and there were two doors in the conference room; one of them obviously led into the hall, but the other was on the opposite side.

“Jack, Molly,” Tony said motioning toward the conference room, “see if you can get behind the guards in the hall. If we can hit them front and back, this will be over fast.”

Jack and Molly scrambled over the broken wall, and Tony looked over his shoulder at the others. “Ready?” He threw open the door and opened fire again.

Within minutes, there was gunfire behind the Greaters in the hall, and shots ricocheting from the concrete yard behind them.

“Bastards thought they were going to flank us,” Tony said.

Another shot sounded outside, and Jacob grinned. “That’s my girl!”

Jack and Molly were advancing, firing, from the far end of the hall, and Tony yelled, “Drop your weapons! Hands on your heads!”

Trapped in the middle, the guards began to do as he said. Tony and Eliza kept their guns up as Herc and Jacob kicked the Greaters’ guns down the hall for Jack and Molly to collect. There were eight or nine Greaters still uninjured, and Jacob was cuffing them with zip ties and telling them to sit against the wall.

Most of the guards were dazed with the shock of having been attacked at all, and a lot of them were injured, some seriously. There was a guy who had been shot in the leg down on the floor, yelling for help, but his injury didn’t appear to be life-threatening, so Tony told him to shut up.

“We can’t help you,” he said, “so stop complaining. You’re still alive, and some of your friends aren’t.”

“Fuck you!” the wounded Greater snapped.

Eliza spun around and advanced a step, aiming at the guard’s head. “He told you to …” She stopped suddenly and stared at him. “What’s your name?”

“You can’t read, bitch?”

Jacob took a step closer, but Eliza shook her head. “I’ve got this.”

The guard’s name tag said _Mattice_. “Are you Nick Mattice?” Eliza asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“I saw Marty’s body,” she said.

There was just enough time for Nick Mattice’s eyes to register fear before Eliza shot him in the forehead.

For a moment there was silence, except for the moans and whimpers of the wounded, and then Tony said, “Let’s go see if Gil needs help.”

*          *          *          *          *

“Mother-fucking son of a bitch …” John was yelling, and Gil grinned.

“He’s okay.”

Alex didn’t see anything funny about it. “My God, Gil, look at the blood …”

Gil handed his gun to Danny. “Watch the door,” he told him, and stooped down next to John, pushing Alex out of the way. “Head wounds always bleed like hell.” He lifted John’s hair so he could see and ran his fingers from John’s temple to the crown of his head.

“Fuck, Gil, that hurts!” John snapped.

“Yeah, you just had a bullet part your hair for you, so I’m sure it does.” He shook his head. “You’re either the unluckiest or the luckiest bastard I’ve ever known. It might need a couple of stitches, but I’ll look at it when we get home.” He pulled a couple of pieces of cloth out of his pocket, folded one and told Alex to hold it and apply pressure on John’s head, and then tied it in place with the other one.

Danny glanced over his shoulder and snickered. “You want to play pirates, John?”

“Fuck you,” John told him, sitting up and putting his hand down right in the puddle of blood. _“Mierda!”_ he muttered, wiping his hand on his jeans. He looked at Danny, who was trying not to laugh, and stood up.

“You sure you’re okay?” Alex asked.

“Fuck, yeah,” John told him, “but I’m going to beat the shit out of Danny first chance I get.”

He took a step forward and threw his arm around Danny’s shoulder. “You are a pain in the ass, but _God_ , I’m glad to see you.”

Danny pressed his face into John’s collarbone for no more than a few seconds and then moved back and looked into John’s eyes. “Yeah.”

“Let’s go,” Gil said. “Downstairs to get Fran, and then we’re out.”

They began to advance cautiously down the stairs, only to hear Tony yell, “Hurry up! We haven’t got all night.”

“Clear?” Gil asked.

“Clear from here to the office wing, but Jacob’s on rear guard.”

“Good.”

They stood outside the door to the downstairs cell block. Gil nodded to Herc, who put his hand on the doorknob. Gil fired one high shot through the door. “We’re coming in!” he yelled. “Drop your weapons, hands on your heads.”

The heard the clatter of guns dropping to the floor before Herc even got the door open. Only two Greaters had been left to guard the women’s cells, and they were zip-tied in short order. Within minutes, the cell doors were unlocked, and Fran was with them, crying. “Where’s Angelica?” she asked immediately. Alex explained, and she gave a sigh of relief.

“We’re done here,” Gil said. He turned to Tony. “You guys need anything?”

Tony shook his head. “We’re ready to go.”

Gil held out his hand. “Thanks. It couldn’t have gone better.”

Tony, Jack and Molly said quick good-byes and then were on their way back to Philadelphia. Gil signaled Tim that they were leaving the site, and Tim let Angelica know so that they could all go to the cars they were assigned to. By four o’clock in the morning, they were back at John and Alex’s apartment. Tim opened the door, and Danny threw himself at him, crying and pretending he wasn’t.

After a few minutes, Tim said, “Somebody better make tea and coffee, and since I’m the only one who’s not wearing a prison jumpsuit or blood-spattered clothes, I’m going to go get food.”

“I’m not blood-spattered,” Angelica pointed out.

“Yeah, but you’re …” he raised an eyebrow at her, since she was on the floor with both arms and one leg wrapped around Jacob, “… busy.” She laughed and got back to making out with Jacob.

Gil handed Tim a roll of cash and boosted himself up onto the counter. “Okay, everybody, shut up and listen.”

They more or less began paying attention, but he knew the adrenaline was still running high, so he kept it as brief as he could. “First, amazing job. We went in knowing the odds were not good, and we all made it out. Only one fairly minor injury.” John took a theatrical bow.

“You all look like hell, though, so first things first, everybody clean up. Danny, Billy, Fran, we’ve got clothes for you, so get dressed, and then I’ll talk to you about your new IDs while everybody else is showering. John, come here and let me look at your head. And listen, guys, five minute showers, we don’t have time to fool around.”

John leaned forward so Gil could unwind the bandage, and then Gil examined the injury with a flashlight. “It’s more a deep abrasion than a laceration,” he said, “so I really can’t stitch it.”

“English,” John requested.

Gil sighed. “The bullet plowed right along the top of your skull, tearing a path through your hair and scalp. It took a lot of skin off, so it’s messy, but not too deep. Get a shower, make sure it’s clean and dry, and then have Alex or Eliza dab a little antibiotic salve on it. Do that every day until it heals. That’s about it. It’s going to hurt for a while, though.”

John shrugged. “I can deal with it.”

Gil put his hand on his shoulder. “I know. Tell me if you want anything for pain. You know it’s your decision.”

“I appreciate that. Thanks … again.”

Gil tightened his hand. “Let’s not make this a habit, okay?”

John threw up his hands. “Is it my fault if I keep getting hurt?” He headed to the bathroom to get his shower.

Gil stared after him. “I hope not,” he murmured so quietly that no one could hear him. “I really hope not.”

*          *          *          *          *

Tim came back with fresh-baked bagels, cream cheese, and muffins from the bakery around the corner, and Eliza had made pots of coffee and tea. They fell on the food like they were starving.

“Good choice, Tim,” Gil said. “Post adrenaline spike, everybody will be craving carbs.”

“I’d say thanks for the compliment, but I had no idea. I just know the guy who runs the bakery and I knew they’d have already started baking for the day. He let me in the back door.”

“Eat something yourself,” Gil told him, picking up a muffin. “You’ve still got a long day ahead of you.”

Tim helped himself to a bagel, his face serious. By tonight, he’d be at Headquarters, wherever that was. Tomorrow, he’d be talking to General Akhdir about establishing a corps of chaplains for the Movement.

As soon as John reviewed Billy’s new identity with him, he and Herc were ready to leave for Boston in John’s car. Billy was now Eddie Ogden’s “cousin” Jeremy. He would be reunited with his mother and would work with Ethan’s squad in Boston. He was overcome with emotion, trying to thank all of them, especially Danny, for freeing him and making it possible for him to see his mother again.

“You’re welcome, fine, get out of here,” Alex told him. “Give my best to your mom – oh, and to Mary Floyd, too.”

“Mary’s there?” Billy asked.

Alex nodded. “I think she and Ben are pretty serious, so she’s working with the Boston group. Now go.”

They left, and then Alex began urging Jacob and Tim to get ready. There was no problem with Fran. She was sitting quietly with the suitcase Angelica had packed for her, so grateful to hear what little news Alex could tell her about Patty, and delighted that she would meet Danny’s mother. “I had given up, you know,” she said to Danny. “I thought I would just die in prison, never knowing if Patty was okay, and now at least I have hope that someday I’ll see my grandchild.” She hugged him. “Thanks for the Bible studies.”

Tim was waiting to say goodbye to Danny, and everybody turned tactfully away to look at something else and pretended they didn’t hear Danny sobbing.

“You saved my life,” he said. “When I was twelve, you kept me out of trouble and made me go to school, and then you taught me what I should stand up for. I want …” He stopped to rub his eyes and take a breath. “I hope that someday, if I work hard, I can be half as good a man as you are.”

“I love you,” Tim said through tears. “I love you, and I’m prouder of you than I could ever express. You’re the kid brother I never had, and the son I may never have, and I know you’re going to do great things.”

“When this is over, I’ll see you again,” Danny told him. “You’re going to go teach the Army how to pray, and I’m going to go learn to speak French, but I’ll see you again.”

“No matter what,” Tim agreed, “we’ll see each other again.”

Jacob and Angelica had taken a few minutes alone in the bedroom, and they walked out hand-in-hand, both of them composed, although it was hard to know how deep the composure went. They exchanged a last unhurried kiss, and then Jacob, Billy, and Fran went to the garage while Alex said a hurried goodbye to Danny. “I wish I could stay till it was time for you to leave, but I have to get them to Headquarters, and I’ll spend the night there, so by the time I get back tomorrow, you’ll be on your way to France.”

Danny nodded, biting his lip. “I know it was you who went to the General about me,” he said. “Thank you isn’t enough.”

“We couldn’t lose you,” Alex told him. “We need you, and the Movement needs you. You’ll know when.”

Danny nodded. “Keep an eye on John,” he said, his voice breaking. “You know how he’s always got to be the first one in the fight.”

“Yeah, I’ll do my best.” Alex pulled him in and held him for a minute. “I’ve got to go.”

He left, and it was quiet in the apartment. John and Eliza sat close together on the couch, her head on his shoulder. Angelica was by the window, staring out at the sky which was just beginning to lighten in the east. Gil stood in the kitchen with a cup in his hand, but he seemed to have forgotten about it.

“I want to go back to the dorm,” Angelica said. “I can’t …” she turned to Eliza. “I want to be by myself for a while.”

Eliza got up and hugged her sister. “Whatever you want, Ange. I’m here if you need me. We all are.”

“I know.” She turned to Gil. “Will you drop me off on your way home?”

He nodded. “Of course. We’ll be leaving in a few minutes. Danny’s going to stay with me until tomorrow when I take him to the Embassy so he can leave with the Gérards and the rest of the Embassy employees.”

“Do I have to learn to speak French by tomorrow?” Danny asked in a feeble attempt at a joke.

“A few phrases,” Gil told him, “and your name. Have you looked at your passport yet?”

Danny shook his head and went to get it out of the envelope John had given him. He opened it up and examined it carefully. “So that’s my name? How do I say it?”

Gil pronounced his full name in French.

Danny smiled. “It sounds like _Danielle._ ”

“They’re both pronounced he same way in French.”

“Say it again,” Danny requested.

Gil did, and Danny listened attentively, then repeated it, _“Daniel Jean Gilbert Félice.”_

“That’s good,” Gil told him.

Danny repeated it again and looked from Gil to John, smiling. “You gave me your names.”

“So you won’t forget us,” John said.

“No chance.” Danny studied the rest of the passport and frowned. “You changed my birth date by quite a lot.”

John nodded. “We talked about that. You had to be at least eighteen so that we didn’t run into guardianship issues, and then it made sense to go a little farther, since we can’t be sure where you might be over the next few years, and some countries still have twenty-one as the age of adulthood.”

“Twenty-one,” Danny said. “That makes me the same age as Gil. I have to think about that.”

“We never doubted that you could carry it off,” John told him.

“Julian will have only this information,” Gil added. “He won’t know anything about who you really are, for your safety and his.”

“He knows I’m coming, though, right?”

“Monsieur Gérard was able to get word to him, but the Embassy will be closing, and I don’t think there will be much chance to communicate after this. King is restricting mail and phone service already; it will probably be cut off completely within a few days.”

Danny looked thoughtful for a minute. “I’ll be okay, you know,” he said. “You don’t have to worry.”

*          *          *          *          *

John and Eliza stood by the kitchen window and watched the sun come up. She was in front of him, leaning back, his arms around her. The apartment was completely silent, and it was strangely soothing. They missed Alex; of course they did, but after the last few days, they both needed peace.

“We should get some rest,” John said softly, his mouth close to her ear.

“Yeah, I think I have my day and night turned around now.”

“You’ll sort it out,” he told her.

“You’re not going to tell me how to reset my circadian rhythms?”

John smiled. “Nah, that’s your other boyfriend.”

She turned in his arms so she was facing him and looked up into his eyes. “Does your head hurt?”

He shrugged. “Not much.”

“Gil left some ibuprofen. He said to take two if you need it.”

“Maybe I’ll do that.”

She went and got it out of the cupboard where Gil had left it and gave it to him with a glass of water. She watched him drink it, and then she reached for his hand. “John, I have to tell you something.” Her voice sounded shaky.

He looked down at her and brushed a strand of hair off her forehead. He took her other hand, and held both of hers in his. “What’s the matter, baby girl?”

“I killed somebody last night.”

“We probably all did. We’re fighting a war, whether they call it one or not.”

She shook her head. “No, not like that. He was already wounded. He wasn’t a danger to anybody.”

"Okay.” His clear hazel eyes were on hers. “Tell me what happened.”

“It was Nick Mattice. I killed him for what he did to Marty – I told you some of it. They tortured him.”

John nodded.

“I didn’t tell you all of it.”

“Okay.” John wasn’t going to push her.

“I don’t know whether Nick was the one who did that, but he was at least the one who set him up, who sent him into it.”

“Yeah.”

Tears were running down her face. “Marty wasn’t brave, you know. He wasn’t going to be some kind of hero. He must have … they burned him, and …” she could barely get the words out. “His fingernails were gone.”

John wrapped his arms around her and held her. His sweet Eliza had gone to the defense of Marty’s girlfriend, and now she was crying for Marty and for Sylvia and for all of the victims of King’s cruelty. He kissed her hair, wishing he could have killed Nick Mattice himself.

“They made him suffer as much as they possibly could,” she told him. “He didn’t … nobody deserves that. I kept thinking how scared he must have been … at the end.”

 _There’s more,_ he thought. _I can tell by her voice. She’s right, nobody should suffer like that, but nobody should have to see it, either, especially not Eliza, not this sweet girl who just wants people to love one another._ “Have you told me all of it now?”

“No.”

“Okay.” _Give her time._ “You can tell me if it helps, now or later or any time, you know that, right?”

“I know. Not now, though.”

“That’s okay, that’s fine, baby girl. You know only someone truly evil would do that to a fellow human being.”

She nodded against his shoulder. “That’s why …”

“And you removed a truly evil person from the earth. He’ll never do that to anyone else.”

“That’s how … that’s what I was thinking.”

“Are you worried that you did something wrong?”

“Yes … maybe. I did it deliberately. I wasn’t just firing my gun at enemy soldiers.”

“I don’t think that matters. He was an enemy, and one you had reason to know was likely to be very, very dangerous to all of us. We couldn’t take any prisoners, sweetheart, so all the Greaters we left alive will be back after us soon. I think you did well to get rid of this one.”

She took a deep breath. “Thank you. That helps.”

He kissed her gently. “I love you. Come to bed.”

She walked with him to the bedroom, and they threw their clothes on the floor and climbed into bed naked. He pulled her close, feeling her softness against him, his face buried in her hair. She took his hand and kissed his palm, and lifted it to rub against her cheek, needing to touch him. “Hold me,” she whispered.

“Forever,” he promised.

*          *          *          *          *

Herc returned from Boston late in the afternoon, reporting that everything had gone smoothly. He tried to tell them what it had been like when Elizabeth Hale saw her son for the first time in months, but he kept choking up.

“It’s okay,” Eliza told him. “They were happy, right?”

“Yeah. They’re good people. And Eddie Ogden and his family, and his girlfriend Sybil – they’re doing everything they can to make it easier. I met Ben’s girlfriend, too. She’s nice. You’d like her.”

“Maybe we’ll get to meet her sometime.”

Herc nodded. “Let’s hope.”

“You must be dead on your feet,” John said.

“I’m pretty tired,” Herc admitted.

“We slept most of the day. I’ll drive you home.”

“You heard anything from Alex?” Herc asked as they walked to the car.

“No, but we don’t expect to. I don’t know where Headquarters is, but it’s far enough away that he’ll have to sleep there tonight, maybe tomorrow night too, so he’ll be back when he gets here.”

“It’s going to seem strange without Tim and Danny around.”

“Yeah. We’ll see them again, though.”

“Sure,” Herc agreed, hoping it was true.

John and Eliza were going to Gil’s apartment at around ten the next morning to say goodbye to Danny. John was up early, making tea and pacing around the apartment, trying not to cry. Eliza finally took his hand and pulled him down to sit on the couch with her.

“Anything you can talk about?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, tears spilling over.

She put her arms around him. John had so many secrets, so many things that he kept inside, and for all he said _the past is past_ , sometimes the past came after him and broke his heart. She knew John had two brothers and two sisters, all younger than he was, that he had no contact with. She didn’t know exactly why that was, except that it had something to do with his father, whom John despised. She knew better than to ask questions. She waited, giving him time, but knowing he might not say anything.

After a couple of minutes, he said, “You know how … especially at first, when he started hanging around us … Danny always sort of, I don’t know, looked up to me?”

She smiled. “Worshiped the ground you walked on.”

“No, just … it seemed like he wanted to do what I did.”

“John, that’s what I mean. Danny has idolized you since the day he met you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Alex says that Danny wants to be John Laurens when he grows up.”

John put his face in his hands. “I don’t …” He rubbed his eyes. “As long as he’s not as messed up as I am.”

“John …”

He gave her a rueful smile. “I’m better than I used to be, right? Hardly ever have panic attacks.”

“Well, I think you’re absolutely amazing, so maybe I’m not an impartial judge.”

“Maybe not. Anyway … you know I have two brothers.”

“Yeah.”

“They were pretty small when I left, six and four, so I never really got a chance to find out if they’d look up to me or not. But when Danny was around, when he’d ask me to show him how to do something, I could think that maybe that felt something like it would have been if I’d ever had a chance to know James and Harry. It made me feel like I might have been an okay brother.”

“You are without a doubt a wonderful brother, because you’re a wonderful person. And maybe … don’t rule out the possibility that you’ll get to know them someday.”

He shook his head. “No, that won’t happen, but …” He stopped and gave her a slightly crooked smile. “The past is past, and I’ve been lucky to know Danny. I’m really, really going to miss him.”

“Me too,” she whispered.

When they got to Gil’s apartment, Danny was ready, his suitcase and his carry-on by the door. He was nicely dressed in new jeans and a button down shirt. “Do I look French?” he’d asked Gil.

“ _Tout à fait,”_ Gil replied.

 _“Merci,”_ Danny said politely.

Now, he was sitting on the edge of his chair, trying not to look nervous. _One thing at a time,_ he told himself. Get on the plane, get off the plane, meet Julien, get to where he was going to be staying. It was too much to take it all in at once.

“I brought you something,” John said, holding out a cardboard mailing tube.

“What is it?” Danny asked.

“You can look at it if you want, just put it back in the tube to travel.”

Gil, standing across the room, watched Danny take the cap off the tube and pull out what looked like rolled up heavy paper.

“I figure you’ll need it more than I do now, more than any of us here do, so you should take it with you …” John’s voice broke “… so he can, you know, look after you.”

Danny unrolled the paper. It was the angel picture.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A LOT just happened. Lives are changing, and the Movement may be less active for a while as the General works on strategy. There will be more sabotage and disinformation than open battles until their forces are stronger.  
> A few words about weird coincidences. When I needed Gil to have "friends at the embassy," I looked up France's first Ambassador to the United States and used his name. He was Conrad Gérard, and his wife's name was Mariette. He's a very minor character in this story, but he is important as the means of getting both Patty and Danny to safety.  
> I've said before that Danny Phoenix was also supposed to be a very minor character, so when I added him, I didn't research the actual Daniel Phoenix, just took his name off a list of the New York Sons of Liberty. Of course, as the story went on, Danny became one of the central characters, and I began doing some research to try to keep him somewhat near the historical Daniel Phoenix. So, to that end, a few facts on Daniel Phoenix: He was treasurer of the City of New York from 1789-1812, and would certainly have known Alexander Hamilton. He was an active member (eventually an elder) of the Wall Street Presbyterian Church, and was also its financial manager. He was an avid reader, borrowing over 200 books from the New York Society Library in two years (believe it or not, these records still exist!), primarily books on history, religion, historical biography, and travel, but also novels. His first three children were named Gerard, Alexander and Elizabeth.  
> Okay, Alexander and Elizabeth were popular names at the time, and both names appear elsewhere in the Phoenix family, but Gerard doesn't, and I have to say, that took me by surprise. I'm not superstitious, and maybe his wife's favorite uncle was named Gerard or something, but ever since I introduced this character, I've had to work hard to keep him from becoming the focus of the whole story. Because of that, he's getting his own fic. It's called "I go to France," and I'm hoping to post it not too long after "I Like You a Lot" is finished, which will be fairly soon -- maybe 5 more chapters???  
> I hope you're still enjoying this story. thank you so much for the kudos, comments, and encouragement. Love you all!


	77. This Kid Is Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new government policy changes things for Alex. Angelica and Eliza are not honest with their parents. John and Eliza spoil Alex. The Schuylers and Peggy's boyfriend Steve celebrate the Fourth of July in Albany.

Even though it felt like everything had changed, so many things were still the same. It was the end of the semester and they had exams. The Thursday night “study group” was continuing to meet until the semester was finished, even though the group was much smaller. Kat Livingston was attending now with her brother. She and Alex had gotten past the embarrassment of the way their brief relationship had ended, and Kat even occasionally made jokes about Alex’s age. Angelica and Eliza were again inventing summer classes to allow them to spend much of the summer in the city.

“What about in September?” Angelica asked Eliza. “Are you going to move in with Alex and John?”

Eliza rubbed her forehead. “I don’t know. I really can’t move into that apartment because it’s too small for the three of us. I mean, there’s no room for a king size bed, which we really need …”

“TMI!” Angelica warned, her hand up.

Eliza smiled. “Sorry. I keep forgetting how easily shocked you are.”

Angelica shook her head. “Not shocked, at least not anymore, but there are just things I don’t want you to share.”

“It’s okay,” Eliza said, hugging her sister. “I promise I won’t give you any details. John has been talking about looking for a bigger apartment, but with so much going on, we’ve never really followed up on it. Anyway …”

“Anyway?”

“If I don’t stay in the dorm, I’m going to have to have that conversation with Mom and Dad.”

“You know you’re going to have to do that sooner or later, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do. It’s not like I think they’ll disown me or anything …”

“But it will still be hard,” Angelica finished for her.

“Yeah. It seems like it’s hard for anybody to understand.”

Angelica nodded. “It is. I mean, I’m okay with it, and I’m glad that you’re happy, but I don’t understand it. I could never …”

“I know. I don’t know how to explain. The only thing I can tell you is that I love John and I love Alex, and I know they both love me. I think if I bring it up with Mom and Dad, though, the first thing they’re going to say is that I’m young, and they’re going to say something very open-minded about ‘experimenting’ when you’re young. They won’t take it seriously.”

“You’re probably right. Is that why you don’t want to tell them?”

Eliza nodded. “I’d like to wait, so that when I talk to them about it, I can say we’ve been in the relationship a year, or a year and a half, or whatever, because maybe that takes the experimenting thing out of it.”

“I think that makes sense,” Angelica said. “And there’s no reason why you have to tell them about it now. I’m happy to share a dorm room with you again next year. It will be my last year, and I’d rather live with you than have to get used to somebody else.”

“Thanks, I think. So what classes are we going to tell Mom and Dad that we’re taking this summer?”

*          *          *          *          *         

The prison break-in had been reported in the news with a few revised details. First, it had been a gang of at least fifty Deplos and illegal immigrants who had broken into the prison, but they had been completely defeated by the swift action of the Greaters. Second, not a single prisoner had been freed. It was hilarious until President King announced that he would be giving a national televised address on the topic.

“Now what?” John questioned impatiently. “Every time we accomplish something, he uses it as an excuse to make things harder for our citizens.”

The “Thursday Night Study Group” gathered to watch the speech. _There aren’t that many of us left,_ Alex thought, looking around the room: Joe Allicocke and Nate Pendleton, Johan and Kat Livingston, Gil, Herc, Angelica, Eliza, himself and John. Ten people left of those who had started out as members of the Students for Progressive Government. He knew that the fact that Tim, Danny, Ben, Patty, and Jacob were absent didn’t mean they didn’t exist, but it was hard to feel optimistic when the visible numbers kept dwindling. He kept telling himself that this was only temporary; the General had a plan, and once the Movement had a chance to regroup and reorganize, they would rise up and bring back a legal government and free elections.

John called Cenzo’s for pizza delivery and everyone waited impatiently for Channel 8’s Ken and Barbie to introduce the President, which they did only after praising him in hushed, reverent tones.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” Angelica muttered.

President King appeared on screen, seated at an inlaid desk in his opulently decorated office.

“He still looks like a fish,” Herc commented. “A blowfish.”

“My fellow citizens,” the President began, “once again, we come together after an attack by those who wish us ill.”

“What is he talking about?” Johan asked.

“I think about us springing Danny and Billy and Fran out of jail,” Alex said. “Sorry we couldn’t let you guys in on that – it was need to know.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Johan responded. “What’s he going to do, pass a law against attacking prisons? I’m pretty sure that’s already illegal.”

That wasn’t the direction President King was going in. “After careful investigation,” he said, “it was discovered that several of those who made an effort to free dangerous prisoners were those who had been granted citizenship by a longstanding loophole in our laws.”

Alex paid very careful attention every time the word citizenship was mentioned. He’d been born in Puerto Rico, and his mother had been a citizen, but only John and Ben’s hacking into the vital records had identified his father as a citizen. It didn’t seem like there could be a problem for him, but he wondered what the “loophole” was.

“For decades, indeed, for centuries in some cases, we have granted citizenship to those born, not in our great country, but in territories and protectorates where residents come from very mixed backgrounds indeed,” declared the President.

Alex’s face went pale, and John grabbed his hand.

“He can’t …” Eliza said.

“As of next Friday, June 1, no one born in a protectorate or territory of this country will be recognized as a citizen. Those wishing to become citizens may apply for naturalization through regular channels …”

“No!” Alex protested. “No, no, no, no, no! This is my country! He can’t just say I’m not a citizen.”

“Son of a bitch,” Herc snapped at the President’s image.

“He can’t do that,” Alex continued. “Congress can’t let him do that. He has no Constitutional power to revoke citizenship.” He looked around the room wildly, hoping someone would agree with him.

Angelica put her hand on his shoulder. “Alex, he doesn’t care about the Constitution. He’s made himself Emperor.”

“Fuck him!” Alex raged. “He can’t do this!” He started to cry.

John pulled him against his shoulder and looked at Angelica over Alex’s head. If Deplos were treated poorly, non-citizens had no rights at all. They could be refused service in a restaurant or other place of business, and it was legal to pay them lower wages than citizens got. They were not hired for government jobs and were not permitted to enlist in the military. The worst, though, as far as Alex was concerned, was that they were not admitted to universities. There were very rare exceptions to this, always controlled by money. Gil had paid thousands of dollars to be permitted to stay on in the university, but ten thousand dollars was pocket change to Gil.

“Sh, sh,” John was murmuring. “Don’t worry. I can pay the stupid fee. We’re not going to let them throw you out of school.”

Alex was inconsolable. He was majoring in political science, studying government. It was what he was fighting for in the Movement. Having his citizenship revoked made him feel lost, as if the solid ground under his feet had suddenly fallen away. John pulled him down on the couch and held him, and everyone else tactfully looked at the ceiling.

Gil touched Angelica’s arm lightly and signaled toward the kitchen. She followed him there, apprehensive about the grim look on his face.

Gil poured each of them a small glass of wine and took a sip of his. “Alex knows that I paid a fee to be allowed to remain in the university even though I’m not a citizen of this country, but he’s not in the same situation. My citizenship of France is secure and well-documented. In addition, President King did not want to cause trouble with France; even now, after France has cut off diplomatic ties, he is trying to reopen contact. In Alex’s case, I’m not even sure what his status will be. There is no such thing as Puerto Rican citizenship, or at least there hasn’t been. It’s possible that those born in territories will be declared stateless persons.”

“Oh, God,” Angelica said, “Alex won’t be able to handle that.”

“He will have to.”

“Gil, you know how he is.”

“Yes, I know he will have some sort of tantrum, but then he will calm down and deal with facts because he has to. I think, though, that he will not be able to continue in the university. He will have to accept that.”

“It will kill him.”

“No. It will make him very angry and so even more determined to fight.” Gil took another sip of wine and looked out toward the living room, where Alex was still on the couch with John. “It’s going to be a very, very hard couple of weeks for John and Eliza.”

Angelica nodded. “It will probably be better if Eliza stays here for a while instead of going up to Albany.”

“I think so.”

“I’ll stay too, for her sake. We can come up with a reason.” Angelica smiled ruefully. “We hardly ever lied to our parents when we were kids. We didn’t have to because they were very fair with us. Now I feel like we never tell them the truth.”

“They still don’t know you’re in the Movement?”

She shrugged. “Sometimes I think Dad suspects, just like we suspect he’s involved in some way, but like he told us, if we don’t need to know, we shouldn’t share information.”

“He’s right.” He finished his wine. “I’ll be back at St. Luke’s for the summer, but I told Mr. Weathers that I’d volunteer in the church clinic a few times a week. Maybe that’s what Eliza could be doing too if you need something to tell your parents. The clinic and the food bank always need volunteers, and now there’s the garden, too.”

“Danny and Tim got the garden planted, then?”

Gil nodded, not quite trusting his voice.

Angelica drank the rest of her wine down in one gulp. “I fucking hate this war.”

*          *          *          *          *

Alex got his official letter of dismissal from the university on June fifth. Not only was he dismissed from classes, he was banned from setting foot on campus, and he lost his phone license. He had to turn in his licensed phone, but that was the least of the inconveniences. He spent the first couple of days after his formal dismissal rampaging around the apartment swearing nonstop in every language he knew.

“I will fucking get my fucking degree if it takes me another fifty fucking years. _Ce putain de merde du Président m’empêchera pas. Quel salaud, este maldito pendejo!”_

John or Eliza would listen to him, hold him for a while, and do their best to reassure him.

“Of course you will,” Eliza told him. “None of these horrible laws will stand once we have free elections and a legal government back.”

“I know.” He leaned forward and pressed is forehead to hers. “Thank you, baby girl. Thanks for staying here when you could be home with your parents and Peggy and Katie. I know you miss them.”

“Angelica and I will be finished with our ‘service project’ by the end of the month. I told Dad we’d be there for the Fourth of July for sure. There’s going to be a big citywide celebration with a parade and fireworks and all that good stuff. Mom says she’s going to stay home with Katie because of all the loud noises, but I know Dad will be happy to have us there for it.”

“A reminder of what the country is supposed to be?” Alex asked.

“Maybe. Maybe of what it can be again.”

“I hope so.”

It didn’t help that Alex got a call from Ben toward the end of June. “Tony’s squad is going underground,” he said.

“Shit!” Alex snapped. “Now what?”

“Nothing specific, the General just thought it was time.”

“Are we next?”

Ben sighed. “You know I don’t know that, and if I did, I couldn’t tell you.”

“So if we need back-up for anything, we call Ethan?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think there are going to be any major operations this summer. Keep it low-key.”

“Okay, that’s what we’ve been doing.”

“Oh, and be sure that you have things organized, just in case.”

“We do. Cars are packed all the time. We’d just have to grab bags.” All the cars had guns in concealed storage spaces now, and the trunks held quantities of non-perishable food. Everybody had a duffle bag packed with clothes and personal items.

“Good. Listen, Alex …”

“What?”

“You know your squad is different because of some of the people who are in it, right? The General talked to you about it?”

“Yeah.”

“It may be some protection for you that Henry Laurens’s son is in your squad.”

“John would hate that,” Alex told him.

“I know, and we’re not even sure if that’s the case. It could even work the other way.”

What did that mean? Was Ben saying that Henry Laurens would put a hit on his own son? “I’m not going to mention that to John,” he said.

“Absolutely correct,” Ben agreed.

“Anything else I need to know?” Alex asked.

“No, not for now. Listen, I know it sucks about school.”

“Yeah.”

“You’ll go back. Nobody will be able to stop you.”

“Damn straight.”

*          *          *          *          *

“Up to Albany tomorrow for two weeks,” Eliza said, “then back here for a while, like we did last summer.”

“I’ll miss you,” Alex told her, nuzzling her neck. “We’ll both miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” she responded, “I don’t like being away from you.”

“C’mere,” John murmured, reaching for her. “How come Alex is in the middle again?”

“I like the middle,” Alex said smugly.

“Spoiled brat,” John complained.

“What if …” Eliza started, then hesitated.

“What?” John asked.

“What if Alex is in the middle, but not like this? Not side by side, but …”

John’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit, darlin’.”

“It would spoil him more, though,” she mused, smiling at John.

There was a choking gasp from Alex. “Dammit, I’m right here.”

“Sh,” Eliza told him, “John and I are making plans.”

Alex put his hand between her legs, slid a finger in and started moving.

She sighed and pushed herself against it. “If you tease me, we won’t get this figured out.”

“Cut it out, Alex,” John said.

“Just let me play a little bit,” Alex coaxed. He didn’t take his hand away.

“Oh, we’ll let you play,” John assured him, propping himself up on one elbow to look over him at Eliza. “So tell me how you see it.”

She smiled up at him, trying to pretend she didn’t want Alex to keep moving his finger. “I’d be on my back, like this, but maybe with my hips up on a pillow …”

“Mm-hmm.” John pulled a pillow from the head of the bed and gave it to her.

“You’re going to have to move, Alex,” she said regretfully.

Alex complied reluctantly, watching her face and catching his lip between his teeth. Eliza slid the pillow under her hips and adjusted it.

“Comfy?” John asked.

“I think so. Does it raise me up enough?”

“Let’s see.” He rolled over to get himself on his knees between her legs.

“Isn’t that where I’m supposed to be?” Alex asked.

John smiled and kissed him lightly. “Not yet, _mi amor_. We’re still working it out.” He pushed Eliza’s legs a little farther apart and moved up, not quite touching the soft dark curls that were already wet. “So Alex would be here.”

“Yeah, but closer.”

“Shit,” Alex muttered. “Come, on, John, let me over there.”

“Not while we’re working out logistics.” John moved back a little. “And I could be here.”

“Mm-hmm,” Eliza agreed, “but Alex would have to promise to stay on his knees.”

“I promise, I swear,” Alex moaned.

“Let me check that I’ll have everything I need,” John said. He got the lube and the condoms and put them within easy reach. Then he gave Eliza his best smile. “You ready to give it a try, baby girl?”

“So ready.” The truth was that she was so aroused by the whole idea that it had taken every bit of her self-control to keep her hands off herself. She turned to Alex. “Come here, babe.”

John moved out of his way. “You go ahead, _querido_. Start things up a little bit. I’m right here.”

Alex kissed Eliza, his mouth urgent, his tongue probing everywhere. As he pressed against her, she could feel how hard he was already, and she pushed her hips up toward him.

“Oh, God, that’s pretty,” John murmured, stretching out beside them, watching. He put his mouth on her breast, taking her by surprise, and she gasped.

Alex broke the kiss and turned to look at John from under his long eyelashes. “One for each of us?”

“That’s fair,” John agreed.

Eliza arched up with a sharp intake of breath, and then put her left hand on the back of John’s head, her fingers tangled in his curls. Her right hand held Alex in place, his straight black hair cascading over her wrist as they teased her and sucked her. She felt fingers enter her – whose? – and then John said, “She’s so ready, Alex. Why don’t you move down there?”

She spread her legs as Alex moved into place. He was on his knees, but he ducked down and gave her one long slow lick, back to front. “You taste good,” he whispered.

All she could say was “Please,” and she felt Alex, impossibly hard, rubbing against her, teasing her. John moved in close behind him, nuzzling his neck, kissing his ear, then reached around to stroke him as he rubbed against Eliza.  Alex moaned and threw his head back, and John withdrew his hand and pushed Alex’s shoulders down. There was no place for Alex to go but forward, and he slid into her, resting his weight on his elbows as he began to move. She took a deep breath and watched John behind him, focused, opening him up as he whispered to him. She knew what John was saying, telling Alex in detail what they were going to do, and she watched Alex’s face as he listened, his pupils dilated and his lips parted. He took a deep breath, and then he suddenly went still inside her and she felt him shudder as John entered him. John pushed Alex farther into her, stretching her. She lifted her hips, pulling her knees back to open herself as far as possible, and Alex leaned forward, putting his hands flat on either side of her, bending over for John. John’s arms were around Alex’s waist, holding him tight, and as John moved, so did Alex, sliding into her.

She could feel both of them, every stroke of John’s driving Alex into her, so tight that he was rubbing against her clit, pushing her closer and closer. She stopped thinking and was only feeling, feeling John push harder and harder so that Alex was deeper inside her than she had thought possible, till she felt every thrust in her rib cage, in her jaw. John’s mouth was on Alex’s shoulder, biting, his curls tumbled over his face. Every breath Alex took became a moan. Panting, John suddenly focused on her and caught her gaze, and he smiled, baring his teeth, and whispered, “Come with me.” Then he tossed back his hair and reached around Alex to thumb her clit, and she came apart under them, wailing. Her hips jerked up hard and she arched tight against Alex, twisting her hands in the sheets and then arching up again, harder, her wail becoming a scream as John slammed Alex into her. John swore, “Fuck, fuck, ah, _fuck,_ Alex, yeah, God, yeah,” and Alex’s moans became a long sustained sound. At some point she realized she was still conscious and that the three of them were holding onto each other, half gasping, half laughing.

“I swear to God,” Alex said, after they’d disposed of the condoms and cleaned up, “there has never been anything better than that.” He was still between them, his arm around Eliza, whose head was on his chest, John curled against his other side with one leg thrown across him.

John reached across Alex to take Eliza’s hand and propped himself up so he could look at both of them. “I don’t know if I can say this right, but that felt like fucking both of you at the same time, and it was probably the best sex I’ve ever had.”

Eliza’s eyes were shining. “Yeah. So, so, so good. Like John said, as if both of you were inside me at the same time, and I can’t imagine anything better.”

Alex kissed her cheek softly. “We didn’t hurt you, did we?”

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and met John’s gaze across Alex. “Sometimes it’s a good hurt. Like when John bites.” She ran her fingers over the dark purple bruise on Alex’s shoulder.

John smiled at her, but Alex seemed a little worried. “You’re sure, baby girl?”

“Oh, yeah. Completely sure.”

*          *          *          *          *

The city of Albany was going all-out for the Fourth of July celebration. There was to be a parade in the morning, followed by sports and games for all ages, musical performances, and lots of food. The day would finish with a traditional fireworks display. The whole Schuyler family, including baby Katie, was in attendance, along with Peggy’s boyfriend Steve Pendleton. Angelica and Eliza were still deciding if they liked him or not.

“He’s really cute,” Eliza said, as they sat at a picnic table eating hamburgers. Peggy and Steve were walking around hand-in-hand, trying to decide if they wanted ice cream or funnel cake, and Philip and Catherine had taken Katie down to the pond in her stroller so she could watch the ducks.

“Yeah, he is,” Angelica agreed. “I guess he’s okay.” She didn’t sound enthusiastic.

“But what?”

“Doesn’t it seem to you like Peggy is too eager to please him? Like he thinks she ought to feel lucky to have him, and she agrees?”

Eliza nodded slowly. “You’ve put your finger on it. I knew there was something. Arrogant?”

“Yeah, but without enough reason for it. I mean, Alex is arrogant …”

“Angelica!”

Angelica laughed. “You know he is, but since Alex is the smartest guy around, there’s a reason for it.”

“He’s also cute, at least as cute as Steve Pendleton,” Eliza pointed out, “and charming.”

“No argument from me. I think Steve Pendleton is more impressed with himself than he should be, but that doesn’t mean he’s a horrible person. It might just be immaturity.”

“Probably. Wait till he gets to college and finds out that everybody is at least as smart as he is. He’s going to be a senior, right?”

“Yeah, same as Peggy.”

Peggy and Steve strolled up at that moment with ice cream cones, and the conversation changed.

“Are you guys going to play softball?” Peggy asked.

Angelica looked interested. “When?”

“Three o’clock. It’s open, anybody can play. I brought our stuff.”

“Yeah, I’ll play,” Angelica said. “It’s been a while, but I could probably hit something. You’re playing, right?”

“Sure, let’s try to get on the same team.”

“Not me,” Eliza declared, “but I promise I’ll cheer.”

Philip and Catherine returned from their walk in plenty of time to watch the softball game while Katie napped in her stroller in the shade. Sitting with her parents and her baby sister, cheering Angelica and Peggy on as they played, Eliza felt almost as if it was four years earlier, with President Washington still in charge of the country. It was hard to believe that just outside this pretty city park, all the stores and shops were designated by economic level, that people like Alex had lost their citizenship, that there was unrest and violence going on across the country. The mayor of Albany had been careful to state that the Fourth of July celebration was open to all residents, not making any reference to Haves, Hopes, or Deplos. Even so, most of the people in the park seemed fairly well off, nicely dressed, not lacking cash to buy ice cream cones or souvenir flags. Maybe the Deplos had stayed away, aware that they might not be welcomed.

A few more years, Alex kept telling them. A few more years, and King would be gone, there would be free elections, and the country would right itself. She hoped that was true.

Angelica interrupted her thoughts by hitting a home run with Peggy on second base, scoring two runs for their team and breaking a tie. A few more batters and the game was over, Angelica and Peggy quite ridiculously proud of their role on the winning team. Catherine and Philip were leaving before the fireworks, since they didn’t want the loud noises to scare Katie.

“Besides,” Catherine said, “we’ll be able to see them from the upstairs windows, and Katie can watch from there. We’ll see you later on.” They drove home in Philip’s car, leaving Catherine’s for their daughters.

There was a sort of mini-concert planned for the early evening, a series of bands that were going to perform patriotic music. People were setting up lawn chairs and spreading blankets on the grass to get the best view. Angelica and Eliza put out the old plaid blanket that had served for many Schuyler family picnics. Eliza went to get some cold drinks from a vendor, and Angelica waved to Peggy and Steve. “Come sit down. We’ve got a good view of the stage here.”

They strolled over, but Peggy said, “I think we’re going to sit a little farther back, over by the trees.”

Angelica raised an eyebrow. “Near the pond, you mean? You’ll be eaten alive by mosquitoes.”

Peggy shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable. “We’ll be fine. I think Steve has some mosquito repellent in his car.”

“Yeah, yeah, I do,” Steve confirmed, although it was pretty clear he hadn’t thought of it.

“I’ll meet you at the car after the fireworks,” Peggy promised.

“Okay.” Well, Peggy was sixteen, she had a right to spend time with her boyfriend without her sisters being around every minute.

“What were you doing when you were sixteen?” Angelica asked when Eliza came back with several cans of soda.

“What do you mean?”

“Peggy and Steve aren’t going to sit with us.”

“Oh.” Eliza shrugged. “I wasn’t doing much when I was sixteen, but if I remember correctly, you …”

“Shut up. Anyway, I was much more mature than Peggy is.”

Eliza snorted, opening her can of Sprite. “Right. Peggy’s got to grow up, just like we did. I know Steve’s her first real boyfriend, but what’s the big deal, really?”

“Nothing, I guess.” Angelica picked up a can of Coke. “Peggy will be seventeen in September. By the time I was seventeen, I’d had sex with a couple of guys.”

“Mm-hmm. What, you think Peggy might have sex? Wow, shocker.”

“I don’t think they’re going to have sex here and now.”

“Oh, good, I’m glad you think our little sister has enough sense not to fuck on a picnic blanket in a public park.”

“Eliza!”

Eliza drank some more of her Sprite. “Ange, sometimes you make me laugh. Think carefully about everything we did in high school and then tell me why Peggy should behave differently.”

Angelica gulped down the rest of her Coke. “I don’t like Steve Pendleton very much.”

Eliza shook her head. “I think you’re being an overprotective big sister, and I hope you won’t do anything that would embarrass Peggy.”

“Of course I won’t.”

“Good.” Eliza turned to the stage as the first band came on.

By the time the performances had finished, the sky was growing dark. Angelica stood up and stretched. “I shouldn’t have had three Cokes,” she told Eliza. “I need to use the bathroom.”

“You go right ahead,” Eliza responded. “I’m fine, so I don’t have to stand in line for the public potty.”

Angelica picked up the baseball bat and glove from the afternoon’s game. “I’ll put these in the car. It’s parked right past the rest rooms, and I feel like walking a little bit anyway.”

The truth was, she felt restless, cut off from what might be going on in New York. She loved her family and was happy to see them, but with Alex having warned them not to try any unnecessary communication, she found herself spending too much time wondering what was happening in the Movement. It must be at least as hard for Eliza, she thought, missing Alex and John, but Eliza seemed to handle it better. Maybe she just hid it better. Angelica was glad that they’d only be in Albany for two weeks before they returned to New York for their “summer classes.” She felt guilty about that, but not so guilty that she wanted to stay longer.

She walked toward the pond where, no doubt, there would be mosquitoes, but there were hardly any people. After a noisy day, it was nice to be in a quieter area, even if it wasn’t completely silent.

 _“Stop!”_ she heard a voice say suddenly. Peggy’s voice. She turned in the direction it was coming from.

“I said _stop,_ dammit,” Peggy’s voice said again, and Angelica walked past the line of shrubs that was screening them and saw Steve Pendleton with his hand up Peggy’s shirt, Peggy trying to push him away.

“Get your fucking hands off my sister,” Angelica snapped. She dropped the glove and got a good grip on the bat. “Or I will break your fucking arm.”

Steve jumped and moved a foot away from Peggy. “Jesus, Angelica, what are you doing sneaking around spying?”

Peggy was hugging her knees, her head down. Angelica took a step closer. “Go home, Steve.”

“Fine,” Steve said, trying to salvage some dignity, “I’m done here anyway.” He stood up and more or less yanked the blanket out from under Peggy. “It’s my blanket,” he added.

“Asshole,” Angelica muttered.

Peggy stayed on the grass and Angelica knew she was crying. Steve marched off angrily, and as soon as he was out of sight, Angelica dropped down next to her sister and put her arms around her.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah,” Peggy sniffed. “You have any tissues?”

“No.”

Peggy wiped her nose on the hem of her shirt like a little kid. “He’s a jerk,” she muttered.

“Yeah.”

“I thought …” She finally looked up. “Honest to God, Ange, I don’t know a lot, but I thought we’d, you know, make out for a while, and then maybe do a little more. I mean, I was okay with the idea, but he was just shoving at me, and when I told him to stop, he was like, ‘Oh, come on, you know you want to,’ like something in a stupid movie. And he was trying to get his hands in my bra, and it _hurt_.”

Angelica held onto her little sister. “Now I really wish I’d hit him with the bat.”

Peggy choked on something that might have been a sob or a giggle. “It’s not supposed to hurt, is it, Ange?” she asked in a small voice.

“God, no, Peg, it’s supposed to feel good. It does feel good unless some asshole who doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing is crushing your boobs.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of what was going on,” Peggy told her with what was definitely a giggle.

“Come on,” Angelica said, pulling her to her feet. “I was on my way to the bathroom, so now I really have to pee, and Eliza is probably wondering where the hell I am. Come with me, wash your face, and we’ll go watch the fireworks.”

They used the restroom, put the bat and glove in the car, and started back to where Eliza was.

“Ange, don’t say anything, okay?” Peggy requested.

“Of course not, if you don’t want me to, but you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know, it’s just kind of embarrassing.”

“I won’t say a word about it, but listen, nobody – I mean nobody ever, anywhere, under any circumstances – has any right to touch you in a way that you don’t want. I mean really _want_ , not just that you’ll put up with because _he_ wants it.”

Peggy nodded. “I know.”

Eliza looked up when they got there, surprised to see Peggy.

“Steve had to go,” Angelica explained briefly.

“Steve is an asshole and we broke up,” Peggy elaborated.

“Okay, then,” Eliza said. “Let’s enjoy the fireworks."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's Alex going to do now that he can't be on campus? Will that change his role in the Movement? Will the squad go undercover?  
> There are one or two chapters left in this story. I'm not quite finished writing the end, so I'm not sure, but either way, it will end soon. I hope you are enjoying it enough that you will go on to read "Provoke Outrage," if you haven't already. The final chapter or chapters have quite a lot going on, maybe a couple of surprises.  
> I'm also going to tell you more about Danny and what happens after he goes to France. That story will be "I Go to France," so keep an eye out for it. You can always reach me on tumblr @daisy-rivers if you want to ask me anything.  
> Thanks so much for the kudos and comments. I love hearing from you.


	78. The First Time I Saw Your Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex focuses on cyber-sabotage. John works on forgery. There is a government crackdown on suspected seditionists that brings unexpected changes to them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter of this story. The second part, "Provoke Outrage," picks up two years later, with intervening time covered in flashbacks.

John and Eliza were both worried about how Alex might react to everyone else’s returning to classes in September, while he was banned from even setting foot on campus. He surprised them though. His dismissal and his status as a non-citizen seemed to have focused him on the future of the Movement in a way that he hadn’t been before.

“I will see this through to the end,” he said. “I’ll do whatever it takes for the Movement to survive.”

The General had more work for him to do now that he wasn’t going to classes. He was trying to keep the Movement as financially sound as possible, even if most of the money they were spending on dark sites of the internet was imaginary, funds that existed only in cyberspace. He spent a lot of time on financial projects, moving money around from one account to another.

“It’s like magic,” he told John proudly. “I can make it look like a bill was paid when it really wasn’t, or I can put money from a bank account onto a debit card or a gift card without the bank noticing.”

“How can they not notice?” Gil asked.

“Oh, they’d catch it in an audit,” Alex said, “or maybe they’ll catch it in a few days, but by then I’m gone, and I’ve deleted all my history.”

He also hacked into the data bases of private businesses controlled by Haves just to vandalize inventory and finances and make things difficult for them. Divisions of Greaters across the country constantly had their overtime records scrambled or deleted, contributing to recruitment and retention problems. He programmed black market phones and tablets, and every once in a while somebody from Headquarters would show up for them.

John worked on preparing more IDs, included blank ones that he could fill in on short notice, and producing fake credit cards and gift cards.

They missed Danny’s help daily but tried not to talk about him. “Look forward, not back,” Alex said, echoing the General.

Angelica was taking Kat Livingston to a shooting range north of the city to help her train. It turned out Kat was pretty good with a gun. “You think I’m really going to have to use the gun?” she asked Angelica one day on the way home, a little skeptically.

“Yeah, I do.”

Kat was quiet for a few minutes, then she asked tentatively, “Do your parents know you’re in the Movement?”

Angelica sighed. “I think my father suspects, but we don’t talk about it.”

“I think my father might be doing some things with the Movement,” Kat said. “I haven’t asked.”

“Probably better not to,” Angelica responded.

Kat nodded. “I hate having to keep secrets.”

“We all do, but it’s for everybody’s safety. I don’t think anybody except the General knows everything that’s going on.”

Angelica had two classes with Kat, who would be graduating at the end of the semester in December.

“And then?” Angelica asked her.

Kat shrugged. “Ordinarily, I would be looking to work as an aide to a member of Congress or a governor, but now … I don’t know. I thought of graduate school, but honestly, they’ve watered down the courses so much that I haven’t learned much in the last year anyway. I’ll probably look for a job in publishing or something.”

“That would be interesting,” Angelica told her. She didn’t really think it would, and Kat knew she was just trying to be polite, but what was there to say? A Political Science degree wasn’t worth much in the current government.

Eliza was back in the dorm, at least some of the time. John was still talking about getting a bigger apartment, but now the problem was that any landlord could legally refuse to rent to a non-citizen. Some did, some didn’t, but their current landlord was okay with Alex staying on, so maybe this wasn’t a good time to make a change. Every day felt unsettled, as if no one knew what might happen next.

A few weeks into the semester, Angelica was in her History of Political Assessment class, bored to death as usual, when the classroom door crashed open so forcefully that it banged against the wall and the glass window shattered. The room was suddenly filled with armed Greaters pointing guns at the students and the professor, all of them yelling, “Hands up!”

Angelica raised her hands over her head, wishing she could get to her phone to record, but her phone was in her bag near her feet, and there was no way that she could reach it. She glanced over at Kat, sitting in the next row, and wondered if her own face was that pale. What the hell was going on?

The Greater with the most shiny gold braid on his uniform stepped up to the front of the room, where Professor Cooper was looking just as stunned and terrified as his students. The officer handed him a paper. “This is a warrant for the arrest of a student in this class who has been charged with aiding and abetting sedition under the provisions of the Domestic Conspiracy Act. We are taking that student into custody.”

Professor Cooper read the paper and his shock was evident on his face. “There must be some mistake,” he said, his voice shaking.

“No mistake,” the Greater snapped, and turned to face the class. “Katherine Livingston, please identify yourself.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from the entire class. No one moved or spoke. Angelica willed herself not to look in Kat’s direction.

The Greater snorted impatiently. “We will, if necessary, search every student’s belongings and person to identify the suspect.”

“It’s me,” Kat said quietly. “I’m Katherine Livingston.”

A Greater stepped from the side of the room and pulled Kat’s hands behind her back and clamped on handcuffs. There were gasps around the room, and Angelica’s heart was pounding.

“Surely that’s not necessary,” Professor Cooper began, but the Greater in charge cut him off.

“Quiet!” he snapped, and the professor fell silent.

Kat kept her gaze steadily on the front of the room so as not to identify any of her friends. “Will someone please let my parents know what happened?” she asked.

The officer at the front of the room laughed. “No need,” he told her. “They’re already in custody.”

Kat gasped, and they led her out of the room. Phones were going off in pockets and purses, and Angelica grabbed for hers, her hand shaking. It was a text from Eliza: _Johan Livingston was just arrested under DCA. They took him out in handcuffs._

Twenty-four students had been arrested on campus, with as frightening a display of force as the Greaters could manage. The same thing had happened at universities across the country, as entire families were swept up on suspicion of conspiring against the government. Angelica and Eliza both texted their parents and Peggy every day, just to check in.

 _We’re still okay,_ Angelica told herself. _Mom and Dad are still okay._

Alex did everything he could to try to find out where Kat and Johan and the others had been taken, but there was no information. The detention center in Elizabeth, New Jersey had been closed, and most prisoners were now in the more secure facilities upstate, buildings that would be impossible to break into even with a hundred troops.

 _We’ll get them out,_ he told himself. _Maybe not now, but eventually, when we bring down King and get a Constitutional government back in place. We’re not going to forget._

*          *          *          *          *

The second Saturday in October Alex’s phone rang at six thirty in the morning. He fumbled around for it in the dark, dropped it a couple of times, and managed to hit answer before it went to voice mail.

“What?” he mumbled.

“It’s me,” Eliza said, her voice strained.

Alex was immediately wide awake. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s Peggy …”

“ _What?_ What happened?”

John sat up and turned on the light, and Alex switched the phone to speaker.

“I got this crazy text from Peggy,” Eliza was saying, and Alex could hear the tears behind her words.

“Tell him about the phone number,” he heard Angelica say in the background.

“What do you mean, crazy?”

“It says ‘911 OMW 911 HIDE petit mouton 911’.”

Alex rubbed his forehead. “Does that make sense to you? I mean, I get 911, there’s an emergency, but the rest of it?”

“The phone number,” Angelica said again.

“It wasn’t from Peggy’s phone,” Eliza whispered on the edge of a sob.

“You’re sure it’s from Peggy?”

“Yeah, it says _petit mouton_ , nobody else would know that. We called her that …” The sob broke through.

John was out of bed and throwing on some clothes. He picked up his car keys and waved them at Alex, who nodded.

“Listen, babe,” he said to Eliza, “John’s on his way over to get you guys. Just …” he hesitated, not wanting to scare her any more than she was already scared. “Just throw some of your stuff in a bag in case you have to stay somewhere for a few days, okay? John will be there in ten minutes, get downstairs and wait for him in the lobby.”

“Okay.”

“Put Angelica on,” Alex directed, troubled by what he was thinking and doing his best to conceal it.

“Ange,” he said, “get your stuff together fast. I don’t know what’s going on, but if Peggy’s telling you to hide, you need to hide. Wake up your RA and tell her that you got a call that your grandmother died or anything you can think of as a cover story to explain both of you leaving like this. Do it now, and be ready to go in five minutes.”

“Alex, don’t you think …”

“Talk later,” Alex ordered. “Do what I said. I’ll see you when you get here.” He hung up and started pacing, chewing his lip and trying to think rationally.

By the time John got back with Angelica and Eliza, he had showered and the kettle was on for tea.

He hugged both of the girls and kept his arms around Eliza. “It’s going to be okay,” he told her, knowing he was lying, and knowing that she knew that too. He kissed the top of her head.

John was efficiently making toast and buttering it, and by the time Angelica had taken off her jacket, he was pouring the tea. He put the plate of toast on the table and then, eyeing Alex over his shoulder, he climbed up on a chair and searched for something in the highest cupboard.

“What are you doing?” Alex asked him.

John didn’t say anything, but he defiantly set a jar of raspberry jam on the table next to the toast.

Alex was taken aback. “We have _jam?_ ”

“Emergency rations,” John told him.

“Where did you …?”

John shrugged. “I still use my Have ID sometimes.” He gave a small smile. “It’s better if you don’t know everything.”

Alex reached for the jam, but John grabbed his hand. “Angelica and Eliza first,” he said.

“I don’t want any,” Eliza murmured.

John brushed her hair back from her face. “Cup of tea and a piece of toast,” he told her gently. “We don’t know what’s happening yet, but I don’t think it’s going to be an easy day. An empty stomach won’t help.”

“Okay.” Eliza took a tiny sip of tea.

Alex turned to Angelica. “Do you have any idea what might be going on?”

“None. We’ve been trying to call Mom and Dad, but both phones go right to voicemail.”

“Shit. Have you tried to call anybody else?”

Angelica shook her head. “I thought … since we don’t know what’s going on, maybe I shouldn’t.”

“Good. Oh, and what story did you give the RA, in case I need to know.”

Angelica winced. “I couldn’t think, and she knows we don’t have any grandparents, so I told her Dad was in a car accident and was in the hospital. That’s terrible, isn’t it?”

Alex took her hand. “No, it’s fine. It’s a cover story, is all, and it’s a good one because if anybody wants to check, they won’t know which hospital or police department to call, so it will use up a lot of time.”

“Okay. I don’t … Peggy said she’s on her way, but where are Mom and Dad? And Katie? What about Katie?” Angelica’s voice was shaking.

Alex put his arms around her. “We’ll figure it out, Ange.” He caught John’s eye over Angelica’s head. “Call Herc, John. I’m going to go to Gil’s and talk to him.”

John frowned. “I could call …”

Alex shook his head briefly. _“Necesito llamar …”_

“Okay.” John didn’t know who Alex had to call, but he obviously didn’t want to do it in the girls’ hearing. He poured himself another cup of tea and closed his eyes for a minute. _If you can still hear me, Gabriel, we could use a little help._

In a corner of the lobby of Gil’s apartment building, Alex called TJ, told him what he knew so far, and asked him if he had any information. TJ was aware of unconfirmed chatter about crackdowns on anyone who had been associated with General Akhdir.

“We hadn’t sent word out because we hadn’t verified it yet,” TJ said bitterly. “Maybe this is our verification.”

“You think it’s possible the Schuylers were taken, but Peggy got out somehow?”

TJ didn’t answer right away. “Maybe. It could be anything, but Peggy telling them to hide worries me. Sounds like there could be a DCA alert out.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Alex agreed.

“Ah, fuck them all,” TJ declared angrily, then took an audible breath. “I’ll see if I can find out anything. Call me when you know more.”

“I will.”

“Alex?”

“Yeah?”

“Whatever it is, it’s bad. I can make room here for two – well, barely, but we could manage. Be ready to deal with that.”

“Yeah.”

Alex shoved his phone back into his pocket and took the elevator up to alternately ring the bell and bang on Gil’s door.

Gil finally answered, sleepy-eyed, his hair a tangled mess. “What the hell?” he mumbled as Alex pushed his way in.

“Eliza got a crazy message from her little sister,” Alex responded without preamble.

“What do you mean, ‘crazy’?” Gil asked, automatically starting to make coffee.

Alex showed him a screenshot of Peggy’s text.

Gil raised an eyebrow. “You got more phones?”

“Unimportant, look at the damn text,” Alex told him impatiently.

Gil handed the first cup of coffee to Alex and started his own. “ _Petit mouton?_ ” he asked.

“Eliza says it’s a nickname they called Peggy when she was little.”

“So it’s a way of verifying that the text is really from her?”

“I suppose.”

“And she’s on her way here?”

“Again, I suppose that’s what OMW means, right? How about you stop asking inane questions and help me out here?” Alex snapped.

Gil knew better than to take Alex’s rudeness personally. He got his cup of coffee out of the Keurig and drank some of it, staring at the text: there was an emergency of some sort, and Peggy was fleeing to her sisters, who needed to hide. It couldn’t be any clearer that they were in danger. He looked up at Alex. “What do you need me to do? You know I’ll help any way I can.”

“Eliza and Angelica are at the apartment with John. That’s the best we can do for now, but not for long since everybody knows we’re friends, so it’s obviously not secure. Somebody’s got to be on campus to wait for Peggy. It can’t be me, but I figured you, Herc, and John can kind of circulate near the campus gathering places and watch for her. Here’s a picture.” He showed Gil a picture of a girl with long dark curls and a mischievous smile emphasized by bright lipstick.

“She’s pretty,” Gil commented, thinking, _She’s beautiful_. “I’ll remember that face.”

“Yeah, well, she’s a Schuyler sister, and I’m sending you the picture anyway,” Alex told him. “John will hang out in the student center, and Herc will stay around the food court. You take the library. If she left around the time she sent the text, she’ll be in the area by noon, maybe. We have to find her as soon as she gets here.”

“Do you have any idea what might have happened?”

“Not really, but Angelica and Eliza have been trying to reach their parents since they got the text, and the phone just goes to voicemail.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Alex shook his head angrily. “I talked to TJ. He thinks there may be a crackdown on associates or friends of President Washington and the General. He’s trying to find out what he can. Fuck King and his fucking Haves.”

Gil nodded. “Based on the time she sent the text, she won’t be here for at least an hour or two,” he said. “I’ll get a shower and get dressed, then go sit in the library.” He put his hand on Alex’s arm. “We’ll find her, _mon frère.”_

Alex swallowed hard. “Listen, if you find her, text me, but be careful. Just say something to let me know.”

“We should bring her here, I think,” Gil said. “You’re right that your apartment is more likely to be watched.”

“Yeah, but don’t forget that everything’s in John’s name, and he’s not as dangerous as I am.” Alex responded ironically. 

Gil smiled. “Go,” he said. “We’ll talk later.”

When Alex got back to his apartment, John and Herc were both there, ready to do whatever came next, but at the moment, John was crouched next to Eliza’s chair, coaxing her to finish a piece of toast.

“Come on, baby girl,” he was saying. “Two more bites.”

Eliza managed a wan smile and did as he said, because it was John, and she loved him.

Angelica was standing by the window, teacup in hand, staring out at the city. She turned as Alex came in, and he saw the tears running down her face. Angelica hardly ever cried. He went to her first. “We’ll find her, Ange,” he said, far more confidently than he felt.

She nodded. “What do you think happened?”

“I don’t have any idea,” he lied. “We’ll know when Peggy gets here. We’ll all have dinner together tonight.”

She looked him in the eye. “Do you really believe that?”

“I do.” Believing that there was a fifty-fifty chance was apparently enough that she couldn’t read his face.

He told John and Herc the same things he had told Gil and sent them off.

“And now?” Angelica asked.

“Now we wait.”

Alex made more tea, ate some cold toast, and tried to tempt Eliza and Angelica with raspberry jam. Finally Angelica climbed up on the chair and put the jam away in the highest cupboard. “John said it was emergency rations. We should save some for the next emergency.”

 _The next emergency,_ Alex thought. _Not if, but when. Practically a daily occurrence._

Eliza wandered restlessly around the apartment looking for something to read. It took Alex a while to remember that he had stashed some old paperbacks on a closet shelf. He dragged out a worn volume of Sherlock Holmes stories and offered it to Eliza. She took it gratefully and curled up in the corner of the couch. Alex tucked a blanket around her.

Angelica didn’t want to read. Anxiety made her angry and irritable, and she kept trying to pick a fight with Alex. Ordinarily, that would have been easy, but today he was keeping his guard up. He understood that the stakes were infinitely higher for Angelica and Eliza than they were for him. He had never had the kind of family life that was normal for them, and so he was unable to truly comprehend their fear, but it was enough that he knew it existed. Philip and Catherine Schuyler were good, kind, loving people, who had accepted him and John into their home and treated them like members of the family. If he was sick with concern for them, how much worse must it be for their daughters?

It was a few minutes after noon when he got a text from Gil: _I have found two little lost lambs. They are well. See you soon._

Alex gave a shout of relief. “They’re okay,” he told Angelica and Eliza. “Peggy must have Katie with her, because Gil says two lost lambs.” He had to stop to get control of his voice.

“But they’re okay?” Eliza asked.

Alex nodded. “He says they’re well.”

***          *          *          *          ***

Peggy sat stiffly on the edge of the couch, her arms tight around Katie. Gil stood a few feet away, watching her, trying to get his bearings, doing his best to convince himself that his whole world hadn’t just turned upside down.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked, pulling himself together. “Coffee? A soda?”

She shook her head, staring at the floor. “I don’t … think …” and he saw the tears overflow. Sobbing, she managed to choke out a terrifying story of the Greaters arresting her parents, of her fleeing with Katie and hiding in the woods all night, then getting help from friends, and finally getting a bus from Albany to find Eliza and Angelica.

 _“La pauvre!”_ he murmured, dropping to his knees in front of her, babbling all the comforting words he knew, half in French and half in English. He took her in his arms and pulled her close, knowing the instant he touched her that she mattered more to him than anything else ever had. She cried her heart out on his shoulder, Katie silent and sleepy between them. He stroked her hair, running his fingers through the curls and feeling how soft it was. His hand rested between her shoulder blades, and he could feel her trembling. _It will be all right. I’ve got you now. You’re mine, and I will hold you like this forever._ “You are so brave, _petit mouton,”_ he whispered.

She pulled away after a few minutes. “I can’t do that,” she said shakily. “If I let myself cry, I won’t stop.”

He brushed a curl off her face gently. He’d never seen anyone more beautiful, but that wasn’t what was making his heart beat so fast that it felt like it was about to fly out of his chest. He took her face in his hands, and he saw her eyes widen as she looked into his.

“Listen to me, little sheep,” he said. “I will not let anything hurt you or Katie. Not now, not ever. I will keep you safe. That is a promise.”

Her lips trembled. “You can’t … you don’t even know me.”

 _But I do,_ his mind protested. _I know you, and I want you, and I hope to God you like kids …_

“Look at me,” he said aloud, and she blinked away the tears that were gathering again. “I promise.”

“How?”

“I promise. Do you believe me?”

Her eyes searched his face, and he saw that she understood. _She feels it too. Of course she does. It couldn’t happen to just one of us._

“I believe you,” she answered, speaking as seriously as he had.

A wave of combined joy and relief swept over him, and he kissed her on the forehead. “Well, then, that is settled.”

“What is?” she asked.

He smiled. “Everything.”

There was loud knocking at the door. _They’re going to think I’m crazy,_ he thought. _Alex won’t like it. I hope Angelica and Eliza understand._

He opened the door, and they all burst in, Angelica and Eliza first, with Alex, John, and Herc right behind them. The girls swept their sisters up in a tearful hug, and Katie, suddenly overwhelmed, began to wail.

“I’ll take her,” Gil said. _I’d better get used to this._ “You talk to your sisters.”

Peggy nodded and handed Katie over to him without a second thought. Bouncing her against his shoulder with one hand, he unzipped Peggy’s duffle bag with the other and found a diaper and a pack of wipes. He headed to the bedroom, calling to Alex over his shoulder, “Get some food for everybody, will you? There's cash in my wallet on the counter.”

 _“Alors, ma petite,”_ he said to Katie, laying her down on the bed, _“tu ne comprends pas le coup de foudre, mais voilà, je suis tombé amoureux de ta soeur à l’instant, sans réfléchir.”_

Katie stared up at him as he removed her soggy diaper and wiped her gently.

“Ah, you don’t understand French yet, do you? Don’t worry, I will teach you. I was just telling you that I have fallen in love with your sister.”

He opened the clean diaper and slid it under her, examining the fasteners carefully. “I have never done this before, you know,” he continued, “but I will get better at it.”

Katie gave him a big grin and waved her hands. She babbled something that wasn’t recognizable as words but sounded friendly.

“I am glad that you agree,” Gil said, snapping up her sleeper. He picked her up and caught a glimpse of the two of them in the mirror. He turned so that Katie could see their reflection. “Look,” he said, pointing. “ _C’est nous._ That is us. You see how your hair is like mine?” He touched his curls and then hers. Katie watched intently, and then patted his hair and giggled. Gil felt his throat tighten, and he spun around a few times just to hear her laugh again.

“ _Je t’aime,_ Katie,” he whispered. “I love you.”

Gil went back into the living room with Katie on his shoulder babbling and giggling as she patted his curls. Angelica reached for her, but to Gil’s delight, she turned away and hid her face on his neck.

“Did John and Herc go out to get something to eat?” Gil asked. “I hope you told them to get milk for Katie.”

They all looked at each other blankly, and then Eliza said, “They’ve both got younger brothers and sisters. They’ll think of it.”

“Did you just actually change that baby?” Alex asked Gil.

“Yes, of course,” Gil replied.

“You’re an only child.” Alex reminded him.

_“Et alors?”_

“Well, you didn’t change your younger siblings’ diapers, so …”

“Really, Alex, am I an idiot that I can’t figure out how to change a diaper?”

“No, just … did you ever change a diaper before?”

“No.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Eliza put in. “It’s not brain surgery. Which Gil will probably actually be doing someday.”

Peggy looked up at him. “Brain surgery?” she asked.

“Pre-med,” Gil explained with a shrug.

“Oh, okay,” Peggy said. “So you’ll be Dr. …” She broke off and gasped, “Oh, God, I don’t even know your last name!”

“Motier, sort of,” he told her.

“You mean Lafayette,” Alex corrected him.

“Which is it?” Peggy asked, looking at him with a puzzled frown.

 _Of course I’ll have to explain the name. It will be hers too someday._ “My actual last name is duMotier, but I dropped the du.” Gil told her. “Lafayette is a title.”

“A title?”

“Marquis de Lafayette. It’s a French nobility thing.”

“Hadn’t you noticed that we all call him ‘sir’?” Alex asked.

“No, you don’t, and seriously, French nobility? Like in _The Count of Monte Cristo?_ ”

“No, nothing at all like _The Count of Monte Cristo_ ,” Gil said. “It’s completely outdated now and doesn’t mean anything. My dad just liked history and used the title. I don’t.” He smiled and watched her face. “At least not now. Maybe when I’m sixty years old and surrounded by dozens of children and grandchildren, I’ll decide to be the Marquis, but here and now, I’m Gilbert Motier.”

Peggy smiled back at him. “Dozens?” she asked quietly.

“Dozens,” he replied quite firmly, grinning at her and bouncing Katie on his shoulder. Peggy’s smile grew brighter.

John and Herc came back with food then, and they all ate, even Peggy, who seemed to be reassured, Alex concluded, by being with her sisters. She held Katie and fed her macaroni and cheese, and then put her down to nap on a folded quilt of Gil’s on the floor, with her Minnie Mouse blanket over her.

Alex had called TJ again, and there was a tentative plan in place. When they had finished eating and cleaning up, he gathered them in the small living room, while Gil put away the last of the dishes in the kitchen.

“I talked to TJ,” Alex said. “I know where he is, but you don’t need to know, so I’m not telling you, okay? Just deal with it. He can make room for Angelica and Eliza, but not Peggy and definitely not Katie.”

“Can you tell us if he’s far from here?” Angelica asked.

“It’s within five hundred miles.”

Eliza reached for Alex’s hand. “I don’t want to go hundreds of miles away.”

“I know,” Alex told her, “but I want to be sure you’re safe.”

Gil came in and sat on the arm of Peggy’s chair, casually putting his hand on her shoulder. She didn’t even look surprised.

“Are you sure we can’t go back to school?” Angelica asked. She wanted to graduate.

“Remember what happened to the Livingston kids? You can’t stay here. You can always finish college later – I certainly intend to – but right now, the most important thing is to stay alive.”

“But if we go, what about Peggy? And Katie? We have to think about Katie,” Eliza said.

“Peggy and Katie can stay here,” Gil said calmly.

“What do you mean, here?” Alex asked. “Here in New York?”

“Here in my apartment.”

Peggy was blushing, but she didn’t say a word. She reached up and put her hand in Gil’s. _She’s staying with me. She wants to stay with me._ He squeezed her hand and laughed out loud with sheer joy.

“What the hell is going on?” Angelica demanded. “You two have known each other – what, three hours? Maybe?”

“About that,” Gil agreed, holding Peggy’s hand tightly and looking down at her.

“And under extremely emotional circumstances.”

Peggy nodded, her eyes on Gil’s.

“And, oh, Peggy is just going to stay here with you? She’s seventeen, for Christ’s sake!”

 _Seventeen. Well, that’s a bit to take in, but old enough, certainly, to know how she feels._ He looked at her with interest. “Are you really?”

“Mm-hm. How old are you, by the way?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Oh, wow. Old.”

Gil shrugged. “But not too old, right?” _This is a completely private conversation in a room full of people, and we are the only ones who understand that._

“Oh, no. Definitely not too old.”

Gil laughed again, and leaned down, turning her face toward him, and then sliding his hand into her curls and cradling her head. He kissed her as if they were alone, taking his time, and finding her mouth soft and ready for him, her lips parted so he could taste her. _How is it possible that everything about her is right?_ He felt her response, felt her melting into him as he slid his tongue along hers. _Oh, my love, ma chérie, ma belle, you’re mine and I’m yours, and suddenly everything is different._

He pulled away reluctantly and then stood and swooped her up, settling into the chair with her on his lap, feeling her snuggle close to him, her head against his chest and her hand on the arm that he had around her. He finally looked up at the roomful of stunned faces.

“So,” he said to Peggy, “maybe we should tell your sisters?”

“Sure,” she agreed, “and your friends.”

“We have an announcement. Peggy and I are … um, what are we?” he asked her.

“How about together?”

He nodded. “Yes, that’s good. We are together.”

“You are fucking nuts, is what you are,” Alex told him irritably. “And how do you think you’re going to hide Peggy and Katie here?”

“Nobody has seen her.”

“So, seriously, she’s never going to leave the apartment?” John wanted to know. “And Katie can’t even go outside to play? For, like, ever? That’s messed up.”

“No, not at all,” Gil assured him. _Do you really think I haven’t thought this through?_ “The only people who know this person is Peggy Schuyler are the seven of us, right? Angelica and Eliza have to go into hiding because hundreds of people in the area know who they are – classmates, professors, the clerk at Staples, the barista at Starbucks. But nobody knows who Peggy is, so for now, she just won’t be Peggy.”

Angelica nodded slowly. “But how are you going to explain her? She’s going to have to have an ID and a backstory.”

“I was hoping that’s where John could help us,” Gil said. “John’s a forger,” he added to Peggy.

“Artist!” John corrected him.

“So can John make an ID that will actually be accepted?” Peggy asked.

“Oh, please,” Alex said, “John’s been making ID’s for the Movement for two years. Not one has ever been challenged.”

“I’m good,” John agreed.

“So what’s my new name going to be?”

“How about Adrienne?” Gil suggested.

“Adrienne.” Peggy tried it out. It was hard to pronounce. “Why Adrienne?”

“Wait a minute,” Herc said. “Wasn’t she …?”

“Right!” Alex agreed, “Two years ago, when you went back to France for a visit?”

“Exactly,” Gil replied. “So if Adrienne turns up now, with this adorable baby who has curly hair like mine …”

“You bastard!” Alex said, but with admiration.

“So, wait, let me see if I understand this,” Peggy said. “Adrienne was a girlfriend in France that nobody here ever met, and now she – I -- just arrived with your baby?”

“Yes,” Gil agreed. “And I have realized that I truly love her – you -- and you and the baby are now going to live with me.”

“That is fucking brilliant,” John pronounced.

“When did you work this all out?” Angelica asked.

Gil smiled, and his arms tightened around Peggy. “About three hours ago, actually.”

“Three hours?” Eliza asked. “You mean when you actually met Peggy?”

“Yes,” Gil replied. _Too bad if no one else understands it. I may not understand it myself, but I am absolutely positive that this is right._ _This is what I’ve always known love would be, this feeling of peace, of coming home._ He bent to kiss his girl again, and she was as familiar to him as if he had always known her. Maybe he had. It had been Peggy he had been waiting for all along; he just hadn’t known until today.

Angelica rubbed her forehead. “You’re right, Alex. They are both fucking nuts.”

Alex, his eyes on Gil and Peggy, shrugged. “Maybe,” he said, “but let’s leave them to it.”

“All right, then,” Gil said, playing with Peggy’s curls, “we have some practical matters to deal with. Alex, will you come with me to buy some things – a crib and a car seat, at least?”

“And a high chair,” Peggy told him, “and diapers and wipes. Size 3 diapers.”

“You both probably need some clothes, don’t you?” he asked, lowering his voice.

Peggy narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you any good at picking out girls’ clothes?”

Gil laughed. “I don’t know. I’ve never done it.”

“We’re okay for a few days,” Peggy said. “Maybe it would be better to wait until I can go with you.”

“Then as soon as John has your ID done, we will go shopping?”

“Sure.” She was still on his lap, and she smiled up at him. “It probably won’t be as much fun as you seem to think.”

“Oh, but it will. Just wait.”

Angelica had pulled Eliza to the other side of the room. “Are you all right with leaving her here?” she asked.

“Not completely,” her sister said, “but we can’t take Katie with us – and Gil’s a good guy, Ange, you know that.”

Angelica nodded, biting her lip. “I just don’t get that whole …” She waved her hand in Peggy’s direction “… _thing_.”

“Love at first sight?”

“Come on, you know that’s ridiculous.”

Eliza shrugged. “Who am I to say it can’t happen?”

“Anyway, I want to talk to her before we go.”

“I think that’s why Gil wants Alex to go shopping with him,” Eliza said.

“Really?”

“Gil’s pretty perceptive.”

Angelica looked over at her little sister sitting on Gil’s lap, the two of them smiling at each other and carrying on a thoughtful conversation. “Do you think Peggy’s ever had sex?”

Eliza rolled her eyes. “Well, not as of the Fourth of July, but who knows what might have happened since then? Just leave it alone.”

“Why?”

“First, because it’s none of your business, and second, because I’m pretty sure if she hasn’t, Gil will be able to help her out.”

Angelica had to smile in spite of herself. “Yeah, there is that. If what Deb told us is true …”

“Angelica, I swear to God if you don’t stop talking, I’m going to stick my fingers in my ears and start singing la-la-la-la!”

“Okay, okay.” Eliza was right. Speculating about her little sister’s sex life was pretty creepy.

Alex threw a hoodie at Gil. “We should get going,” he said.

Gil gave Peggy a quick kiss and set her gently down in the chair. “I won’t be gone long, _chérie,_ ” he said.

Alex caught Angelica’s eye across the room and mouthed _Jesus Christ_.

 _I know_ , Angelica mouthed back.

Alex and Gil left, and John pulled out his phone. “Peggy, I need to take your picture for your ID,” he said. “We need a white background, so if you could stand against the kitchen wall, that would be good.”

“Sure, just let me fix my hair and my lipstick.” Peggy jumped up, grabbed her purse, and disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes. When she came back, she followed John’s directions, standing facing front, right, and left, as required, until he had pictures he was satisfied with.

When he was done, he turned to Angelica and Eliza. “You want to talk to Peggy, don’t you?”

Eliza smiled. “Yeah, how did you know?”

“I was just thinking how I’d be if it was my sister announcing she was moving in with a guy she’d just met.” A shadow flickered briefly across John’s face. “Herc and I will make some coffee. We’d leave, but Gil will need us to help him put the crib together.”

“Alex can’t help?” Angelica asked.

John and Herc both laughed.

“Come on, then, Peg,” Angelica directed. “We’ll go have our conversation in the bedroom.”

“I was wondering when you were going to stop talking as if I wasn’t in the room,” Peggy said, tossing her hair. She followed her sisters into the bedroom and leaned against the bed. Angelica closed the door.

“Are we really going to say anything John and Herc can’t hear?” Eliza asked irritably.

“I don’t know,” Angelica told her. “Maybe Peggy has some questions.”

“I don’t,” Peggy said, “and if you’re going to ask me if I know what I’m doing, the answer is yes.”

“You’re young,” Angelica started.

“I know how old I am.”

“It just seems … well, sudden.”

“Duh. You think I’m not aware of that?” Peggy looked from Angelica to Eliza and back again. “I know I only met Gil today. You can think I’m crazy if you want, but – I can’t explain it. I feel like I’ve known him forever. He feels _right_ to me. It’s not …” She stopped and thought again, trying to find the right words. “You know how when you meet a guy you might be interested in. You think something like, _Oh, he’s cute. He seems nice. I’d like to get to know him better_.”

Angelica nodded.

“Well, that’s happened to me a hundred times and this is _nothing_ like that. I don’t have to get to know Gil better. I already know him.”

Even Eliza raised her eyebrow at that. “Sweetie, Gil is a very attractive guy. I can see how you could be dazzled by his good looks and his charm. We just don’t want you to be hurt. Have you thought about what you’ll do if it doesn’t work out?”

Peggy made an impatient gesture and held her hand up. “Stop,” she said. “That’s not – dammit, you don’t understand. It already _has_ worked out. Gil and I know that. Anyway, great-great-grandma Gertrude was only seventeen when she got married. Dad was talking about it just the other night.” Her eyes suddenly filled, her self-assurance dissolving. “I want Mom and Dad,” she stammered, her voice tight.

Angelica put her arms around her. “I know,” she said. “So do I. Alex and TJ are going to work on it, Peg. They’ll figure out how to find them.”

Peggy nodded against her sister’s shoulder, and Angelica’s eyes met Eliza’s over Peggy’s head. Eliza shook her head ever so slightly. Angelica hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. “You’ll be okay here, Peg. We won’t worry about you. Gil will take good care of you and Katie.”

Peggy sniffed and pulled away from Angelica’s shoulder, looking around for tissues. She found some and blew her nose. “I know, Ange. I trust him.”

“So do I,” Angelica told her. “We’ve all trusted each other for two years now. I’m not going to say I understand, but Gil wouldn’t lie to you.” _At least I hope not. He’d lie to pretty much anybody else,_ she thought, but she didn’t say it. Peggy would learn about Gil as time went on. “Eliza and I will know you’re safe, and maybe we can even talk on the phone once in a while if Alex can arrange it.”

“You’re going to be pretty far away, though, and I won’t know where you are.”

“It’s okay,” Eliza said. “Alex will know. Alex always figures everything out.”

Peggy nodded. “It looks like we’re all in the Movement now.”

“Dad would be proud,” Angelica said, and they all managed to hold back the tears, even Peggy.

They went to the kitchen to join John and Herc for coffee and some leftover cookies, and then Katie woke up, and before long, Alex and Gil were back, yelling for help to get bags and boxes out of the car. Everything had to be assembled, and Gil, characteristically, had bought every item he could think of that Katie might need, including a Teddy bear and a few books. “The crib sheets need to be washed before Katie can sleep on them,” he announced as if he had suddenly become an authority on babies. “I bought some baby detergent, too. It’s in here somewhere …”

Herc, unpacking bags, found the detergent and started the laundry in the stackable washer and dryer in the hall closet. John and Gil efficiently assembled the crib and high chair as Alex studied the diagrams and gave lots of advice.

Once everything was set up, Alex turned to Eliza, who was playing with Katie. “We should go,” he said, his voice gentle.

Eliza’s eyes filled, but she nodded, and handed Katie to Peggy. The apartment was suddenly silent, and Katie looked dismayed. She babbled a few syllables and waved her hands.

“Can we come back in the morning?” Angelica asked. “Just to say bye?”

Alex shook his head. “We have to leave early. It’s a long drive.”

For once, she didn’t even try to argue. She hugged Herc and then wrapped her arms around Peggy and Katie. “I love you,” she said, her voice breaking.

“I love you too,” Peggy told her. “We’ll talk soon, right?” They both knew it probably wasn’t true, but Angelica nodded as if she believed it

Then Eliza pulled Peggy and Katie into a hug, and Angelica stood on tiptoes to hug Gil. She clung to him for a minute and whispered, "She's so young. Please don't rush her."

Gil pulled back and smiled at her as he wiped the tears off her cheek with his fingers. "Angelica, _ma chère sœur,_ I have waited my whole life for her. Do you think I can't wait a little longer?"

She kissed his cheek quickly, and then they were all gone. Gil turned and held out his arms, and Peggy went to him. He took Katie from her, and held her against his shoulder, then wrapped his other arm around Peggy. They stood that way for a few minutes, Gil holding his girls. They were both his girls, now and forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you believe in love at first sight? I don't understand it myself, but it looks like it's real for Peggy and Gil. "Provoke Outrage," the second part of this story, is also very much their love story, as well as the continuing story of the Movement, and eventually the Second Insurrection and its outcome. As with "I Like You a Lot," there will be both joy and sorrow along the way.  
> I hope you've enjoyed reading this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it, and I hope that is you haven't already, you'll go on and read "Provoke Outrage." Please let me know what you think of either or both of them. I love hearing from you, and I'm grateful to everyone who has left a comment or kudos.  
> I'm also working on "I Go to France," which follows Danny Phoenix after he leaves New York. Not sure when I'll be posting that, but it shouldn't be too long. If you have any questions, you can reach me on tumblr @daisy-rivers or Instagram @daisyrivers0408. Talk to me any time!  
> Thank you again for reading this and caring about these characters. Love you all!


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